


Memento Mori

by SmutFika



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Batfamily Feels, Bromance, Brother Feels, Brotherly Bonding, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, DC Comics Rebirth, Dobbelgänger, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Father Figures, Fatherhood, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Guilt, Hallucinations, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Masturbation, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Mortality, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Photography, Pre-New 52, Psychological Horror, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Smut, Temporary Amnesia, canon mixed with non-canon bits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-01-05 18:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 55,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12195684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutFika/pseuds/SmutFika
Summary: It’s been over two years since Tim Drake-Wayne’s death when the Waynes suddenly are confronted with a doppelganger in the shape of Alvin Draper, an up-and-coming freelance photographer suffering from severe memory loss.Bruce Wayne teams up with Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown and a reluctant Jason Todd to reunite with his son, only to realize that in order to reclaim what once was lost will be an even more dangerous and risky task than anyone ever could have anticipated.It's a story about loss, guilt and forgiveness; about a shattered family struggling to reunite and two lost men finding mutual happiness and love in each other.





	1. Myosotis

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in this fandom and also my first JayTim fanfic. I’ve been a fan of the comics since the early 2000s. As such, this fic is primarily based on material from the pre-new52 era with some references to current events in DC Rebirth. 
> 
> This is also a canon divergent fanfic so I will not follow canon material released after 'Detective Comics' #940.
> 
> This fanfic is planned for 10 chapters and each chapter will be approx. 6000-8000 words, so to all the fans of long, extensive fanfics out there: enjoy. 
> 
> A huge thanks to my best friend and beta, Sally (champagneleftie), who even though she’s not in the fandom still wanted to help me out. Thank you, darling. 
> 
>  
> 
> For each chapter in this series there will also be a separate Spotify Playlist. A link to each playlist will be posted in the author’s notes together with a list of all songs for those of you who don’t have Spotify. 
> 
> Chapter 1  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/chowayu/playlist/1HaUhrCfoggnOrDnUWhM3T
> 
> Chapter 1 Playlist:  
> Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door - Antony and the Johnsons  
> No Rest for the Wicked – Lykke Li  
> Human – Rag ‘n’ Bone Man  
> Gunshot – Lykke Li  
> Lover, where do you Live? - Highasakite  
> Dancing on My Own – Robyn

**_AUGUST_ **

**Song:** Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door - Antony and the Johnsons

 **Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey

 **Time:** 04:37 AM

 

_“Red Robin out.”_

The explosion that followed was alarmingly loud and heard throughout all of Gotham and beyond, waking up even the heaviest sleepers from their pleasant dreams. Outside dawn was creeping forth, slowly embracing the buildings, parks and city streets in a mellow orange glow, giving false hope of calm and tranquility for the day to come. Sirens and alarms were soon breaking the eerie silence, taking over the empty streets with an incoming armada of fire engines, ambulances and police cars. Curious citizens turned on their televisions and phones and almost choked on their coffee when all over the news, one single headline lit up in bold red letters: Drone Terror Attack on Gotham.

Once the initial chock had settled and it began to dawn upon people what it all meant, hysteria and chaos ensued. Some took to the streets, smashing and grabbing everything within their reach; while others packed their most precious belongings in enormous suitcases and screamed at their kids to hurry to the family car. Some were frantically calling or typing to everyone in their contacts, while they themselves ran out of the city with tears streaming down their fear stricken faces.

When the fire engines arrived to the scene, there was not much left of what once used to be a busy, popular neighborhood, a place that had now been reduced to rubble, broken building structures and burning cars. The police began almost immediately with sealing off the area while turning curious citizens away, asking them not to photograph the scene.

Two young men, not more than in their early 20’s, went up to the police officers, asking them if there was anything they could do to help. A middle aged officer looked them over and noticed their light bruises and the dusty clothes. They had most likely been close to the explosion when it happened but far away enough to avoid any larger damage. They had been lucky.

“The best thing you young lads can do is help evacuate the city center, yourselves included.”

“Are there any casualties?” One of the men asked.

“We don’t know yet, sir, that’s what we are here for. So please, get moving and let us do our jobs.” The middle aged officer went over to a colleague who was busy with sealing off the area around the most dangerous area. He put a hand on her shoulder and she tried to give him a smile in return, but the grave concern showing in her otherwise young and cheerful features gave it all away.

“We’re all scared, and it’s okay. You’re doing good, Ace.”

“Thanks, Burton.”

They were interrupted by two firefighters who came over carrying two heavily damaged drones in their hands. Both of them looked puzzled as they looked over the machines in their hands.

“These robots could have caused a lot more collateral damage and cost us hundreds, maybe thousands, of casualties. It’s a mystery as to why they all went in this specific direction, to this spot.” The fireman’s partner nodded in agreement, and he continued. “Especially when you consider how calm and empty this neighborhood is at night. Had I planned something like this, I would never have picked this area.”

“Maybe something or someone lured them here?” Ace asked while she finished sealing off the last corner with bright yellow police tape. “I mean, like a distraction perhaps?”

“Whatever or whoever it was, it saved a lot of lives tonight.” Burton took off his police hat and wiped away some pearls of sweat from his forehead, sighing heavily as he looked at the destruction before them. “And if it was a _who_ , then poor thing. What a horrible way to go.”

“Horrible _and_ heroic, I’d say.” Ace said, before returning to the cars, the two firefighters in tow. Burton put his hat back on and felt a sudden vibration in his left pocket. He hurried taking out the private cell phone, almost dropping it in the process, and then opened the new message from Louise. He almost began crying, heaving out a deep sob in relief.

 

 **[04:58 LOUISE:**  
**I’m safe. Be careful, I love you, dad.]**

 

Burton looked up from his phone, his eyes landing on one of the roof tops nearby. It was empty except for some rubble, but he imagined if only for a second that a hero was standing there. His cape would be wavering lightly in the wind and his face would be hidden away by a mask, hiding an identity Burton wished he could thank personally. This would have to do, for now. Burton took off his hat and held it in both his hands, hanged his head low and sighed deeply.  
  
“Thank you.” 

 ~*~

_**SEPTEMBER** _

**Song:** _No Rest for the Wicked_ – Lykke Li

 **Location:** Home of Lucius Fox, Gotham City

 **Time** : 08:39 PM 

Lucius Fox, now the acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises, had always considered himself loyal. He was a much appreciated colleague and boss, always receiving excellent feedback on his work and leadership in all surveys, and few would have anything negative to say about him. So when Bruce Wayne had approached him over the weekend with the delicate task of handling Timothy’s passing to the press, he had immediately said yes. He’d do anything for that man, his friend and colleague since many years, no matter how hard it was.

But now he was having second thoughts. The doubts had begun kicking in when he’d asked his daughter, Tam, for advice on what to say about Tim in the speech.

Tam hadn’t said much since Saturday, barely even left her room, after Lucius had brought her the devastating news. Even now, two days later, it was hard for her to even mention Tim’s name without crying. So it was no surprise that his daughter broke down into tears while picking out a tie to go with her father’s suit for the press conference. Lucius wrapped his arms around Tam, holding her close in a warm embrace, patting her head while she cried out on his shoulder.

“It’s alright, honey.”

“I miss him, dad.” Tam sobbed out.

“I know, Tam. We all do.”

Tam backed away from her father’s embrace, wiped away the tears on her cheeks and tried her best to collect herself, even if only for a brief moment.

“You should take the red tie. Tim would’ve liked that.” Tam picked up the deep crimson tie with slim black and golden horizontal stripes. She held it in front of her father’s dark suit, and Lucius nodded in agreement.

“You’ve always had such good taste.” Lucius studied the tie in his hands closely, admiring the details. “I hope it will go well tomorrow, hopefully the press will keep it low key. We don’t want Bruce to get any bad publicity right now.”

“Why would he get bad publicity from this press conference?” Tam asked as she sat down on her parents’ bed.

“There is some concerns among the board members that the public will respond negatively to Bruce’s absence tomorrow. It might be perceived as cold or odd that Bruce himself doesn’t deliver the news about his own son.” Lucius looked away, trying his best to hide the guilt over the latest board meeting. The concerns expressed by the others were quite valid, in fact the majority had not wanted Lucius to go forth with the press conference. It was not his place nor his role to represent the Waynes in this most delicate matter, but Bruce had asked him as a friend, not a colleague. After all that Bruce had done for Lucius, this was the least he could do to repay him.

Tam got up from the bed and went over to her father, took the tie along with the suit and hung them over by the bathroom door. She turned around, her shoulders a bit less tense and her eyes shining bright in the mellow evening light.

“You will do him justice, father. Tim adored you.” Tam confessed.

“He was a great lad and fantastic co-worker. I am certain he would have taken Wayne Enterprises into a new golden era one day.”

“You should tell them that.”

“What?”

“Exactly what you just said. Tomorrow, at the press conference.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you’ll do so good, dad.” Tam went over to her father and gave him a long hug.

“Thank you, Tammy.”

 

**_The next morning._ **

Lucius had felt so prepared in the early hours of the morning. The press conference was booked, they had 30 minutes including questions, it should suffice. His speech was prepped, settled and practiced so much so that he remembered it all by heart. His suit was pressed and neat, even Lucius’s choice of tie was handpicked and fit well. So when he left his home and went into the car, he felt calm and ready for today’s big event.

But that lasted only for so long, for when Lucius arrived to Wayne Enterprises he was overwhelmed by the volume of people greeting him by the entrance as he left his car. Judging by the big masses outside the doors, Lucius did not want to stop in his tracks to consider how many more were waiting indoors.

A young valet immediately hurried over to his side, taking his keys and informing him of the current situation. Apparently media from all over the country had flown in for their press conference, there was even five or six from abroad who had taken the redeye flight for this particular conference.

The shuttering sounds and blinding flashes of the incoming wave of cameras was putting him on edge. Lucius tried his best to politely break through the group of journalists but to no avail. A million buzzing questions circulated around him as he finally saw two security guards arrive to his aid. They helped him get to the staff elevator on the other side of the hall without much hassle. When Lucius finally got to the elevator, it couldn’t move any slower. He threw himself inside when the elevator doors finally opened, and he let out a deep sigh of relief when the doors shut close and he began moving up the floors.

Lucius checked his cell phone. There were 56 missed calls. This was going to be a long day.

 

~*~

 **[Live on Television]**  

“We are now going live over at Wayne Enterprises where a press conference is being held after the news that Timothy Wayne was one of the victims in Friday night’s drone terror attack. Wayne Enterprises CEO, Lucius Fox, is holding the press conference and- it’s starting now, over to you Chris.”

_We remember today a man I am proud to be able to call my friend, a man who was so extraordinary and irreplaceable. Tim's parting has left us with a great void and he is deeply missed by family, friends and colleagues._

_Tim was the very essence of compassion, of duty, of loyalty and of determination. He will always be remembered by the public for his amazing charity work through the Wayne Foundation, but for us, he will always be remembered as the man who would have brought Wayne Enterprises into the next golden era._

_Tim wanted to provide Wayne Enterprises with a stable and secure future. He never once allowed his unfaltering ambitions for this company and its workers to go unspoken or undemonstrated. On behalf of Wayne Enterprises, I pledge that we, your friends and colleagues, will do all we can to continue the imaginative, ambitious, and sustainable way in which Tim was steering this company._

_Put simply, he made me and so many other people happy and hopeful for the future of this company and of Gotham. May this be the way that he is remembered._

 

~*~

“Is this it?!” Stephanie pointed with a trembling hand towards the big monitor in the Batcave. Her eyes were red and stained from crying, her cheeks puffy and her whole appearance spoke volumes of her lack of sleep since Friday. “We’re his family! We should be there!”

“I personally asked Lucius to do this. For us.” Bruce said.

“Fuck, that’s bullshit! He is doing this for _you_. Not me, not Cass, not Dick or Jason or Damian. This is all for you because you’re not man enough to confront what has happened.”

“That’s not true, Stephanie-”

“You haven’t said a word about Tim since he died. Not even mentioned his name. All you do is work, like nothing has changed, like Tim is still out there on his patrols. But guess what? He’s not! And he never will be ever again.” Stephanie turned, full of anger and grief, and ran out on the others, almost falling into Alfred on her way out. Alfred joined Bruce, Dick and Damian over by the computers, and sighed deeply.

“Lucius Fox just called, Master Bruce. He said the press conference went very well. Not too many questions or speculations from the media.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, master Bruce, that speech was very moving and-”

“I did not write it, Alfred, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Oh, I understand, Master Bruce.” Alfred picked up two empty coffee mugs from the nearby work station and hurried back the way he’d just come from.

“Alfred is working too much, father. I haven’t seen him take one break all weekend.” Damian said from his seat next to Dick, who was sitting up in his chair with his knees to his chest, face hidden deep in his arms, still sobbing from Lucius’s speech.

Bruce said nothing in response to his youngest son. Instead he turned around in his chair, muted the broadcast and opened up the recent files he’d been working on. They remained that way the rest of the day until it was time to get ready for patrol, during which Dick went up and headed straight over to the changing rooms without a word. Damian followed soon after, looking over his shoulder at his father who was sitting glued to his chair, still looking at the exact same file he’d opened that very morning.

~*~

**_OCTOBER_ **

**Song:** _Human –_ Rag ‘n’ Bone Man

 **Location:** The Batcave, Gotham

 **Time:** 02:15 AM 

Jason usually tried to stay as far away as possible from the Batcave. The only reason he was here tonight was because Dick had been pestering him for a week and insisted they’d go over one of their up-coming joint missions over in China Town. They were going to take down a human trafficking cell which had established itself in China Town’s harbor. Apparently it had been one of Tim’s projects before he passed. Dick had taken upon himself to finish up all of Tim’s projects and missions, he’d even taken on patrolling China Town all by himself. Even Jason realized it was too much work for one single person.

“I’ll take the patrol of China Town on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” Jason said while cleaning out his gun.

“What?” Dick looked up from his maps. “Did you say something?”

Jason sighed, slightly annoyed, and put down his gun on the table, looking over at Dick. “You work too hard. You keep this up you’ll screw up, get yourself killed. So I take Tuesdays and Thursdays. Deal?”

Dick looked like he was about to start crying. He had acted so collected for the last week that Jason had started to believe that Dick might actually have moved on with his grief. Until now that is, because now Dick was moving in on Jason’s territory, arms all wide and ready to embrace the other man into a big, loving hug. Jason really didn’t want his space invaded right now, much less by Dick out of all people, but he knew better than to throw rejection at the older man in a moment like this. Instead, Jason turned and faced Dick and let himself be pulled into a hug. Dick hung his head over Jason’s right shoulder and it didn’t take long for Jason to feel his t-shirt dampen right where Dick’s face was resting.

“Thank you, Jason. That means a lot.”

“Whatever.”

“I miss Tim so much that I’ve taken it upon myself to finish everything he’s ever worked on. For closure maybe. I think, or hope, that he would have appreciated it.”

“Well, he was an extreme perfectionist so I guess? No unfinished paper work lying around, even in death.”

“Jason-”

“What?”

Dick pulled away and looked at Jason with great concern plastered all over his face. “How are _you_? We haven’t really talked about Tim since he passed. I know you and Tim had-”

“It’s all good.” Jason cut Dick off abruptly, instantly turning away from the other man and looking for his jacket. He needed to collect his stuff and get out of here before Dick insisted on family counseling or some other therapy shit.

“Are you sure? I am here if you ever need to talk about Tim.”

“I have nothing to say about _the replacement_.”

“Don’t call him that.” Dick said, his voice sounding like a growl, all stern and serious. Jason almost thought it was the Batman for a second, the way in which Dick had looked at him like he was about to murder him if he ever said that name again. It sent a cold shiver down his spine.

“I didn’t mean it-”

Before Jason could finish his sentence, Bruce, Damian and Stephanie entered the cave. Their masks were off, revealing their tired and strained faces. Bruce came first, with Damian close in tow, while Stephanie almost limped her way into the cave. She looked pissed. Not just angry, oh no, she was about to fucking murder the first one to piss her off. When Bruce finally sat down in his chair by the computer, it all broke loose. Stephanie flipped.

“It’s been two weeks! He deserves a fucking funeral! That’s the least you can do for him. He saved the whole damn city, sacrificed himself-”

“Stephanie, calm down. Now.” Bruce growled, his fingers massaging his temples slowly.

“Oh, you want me to calm down? Well, screw you, I’m not going to calm down. Tim gave everything for this, for you, so the least you can do is give him, me and everyone else some closure!” Stephanie practically screamed with all she could muster. Her face was all red, her body shaking.

It was eerily quiet for almost a minute before Bruce stood up and put the cowl back on. He moved past Damian and headed over to Stephanie, stopped right before her and gave her the stare of the Bat. It was cruel, even for Bruce, Jason thought to himself.

“No.” Batman said and went past Stephanie, not uttering another word while he headed towards the other side of the cave. Stephanie collapsed on her knees onto the floor, her arms wrapping around herself for comfort as she began to cry and beg for Bruce to stop, to change his mind. When she realized that the Batman was ignoring her pleading, she rose to her feet again and yelled. 

“So that’s the way it’s going to be?! You’re just going to ignore me? Well count me out then, Bats!” Stephanie ripped off her cowl from her armor, threw it over the edge and it fell slowly down the bottomless cave. She looked over at Damian who stood like frozen to the ground right next to her.

“I’m sorry Robin, but I can’t. I can’t live like this anymore.” She took off all her gadgets and weapons, put them down on one of the tables and marched away towards the changing rooms. Damian just looked passively in her direction. Dick went over to him, kneeled beside him and laid a hand upon his shoulder for comfort.

“It’s not fair.” Damian scowled, looking at Dick and then at Jason. 

“Life rarely is.” Jason muttered, picked up his guns and turned to leave. Jason didn’t stop to look back for one minute, he just paced fast and steady towards the exit and tried to focus on tonight’s patrol. He was so immerged in his own thoughts that he almost missed the stairs to the outside, and he had to grab a hold of the cave wall not to fall when he turned all too fast in his steps. He shook his head and opened the exit door, but closed it shut almost immediately.

Batman was on the other side of the door. Fuck, Jason thought to himself, he was never getting out of here with a brooding Bat in his way. Jason slowly opened the door again, only a few centimeters, and tried to get a good look outside at Batman. Batman was standing only a few meters away, his head hung low and his posture creating this immense shadow behind him. Jason was just about to open the door further when he heard it. The sobs. The Batman was crying actual tears, hidden away from everyone else so no one would know or be able to comfort him. For a brief moment, Jason felt bad for his old mentor, pitied him even.

And so Jason closed the door again, sat down against the wall and lit himself a cigarette.

Patrolling could wait another five minutes.  

  _'Cause I'm only human after all_

_I'm only human after all_

 

~*~

**[Live on Television]**

**Mike Bernstein:** _“Good morning, citizens of Gotham! It’s 8 am and this is Good Morning Gotham. I am your host Mike Bernstein. I am here this fine morning together with the award winning journalist and author Vicky Vale, who is here to talk about her recent column in the Gotham Gazette. The column has gotten a lot of attention recently and created a rather heated debate regarding a certain Gotham family. Welcome, Vicky.”_

 **Vicky Vale** _**:** “Thanks, Mike. It’s a pleasure to be here.”_

 **Mike Bernstein:** _“We’re so glad you could join us. So you recently wrote this acclaimed piece on the late Timothy Wayne, who passed away almost a month ago in the Drone Terror Attack. You’ve gotten a lot of positive feedback and praise from the public and other media outlets, some even demanding that you should win this year’s Golden Pen for this piece. But you have also received severe criticism from Gotham’s elite, especially Bruce Wayne, who claims that you’re abusing Tim’s passing as means of boosting your own career. Would you comment on this?”_

 **Vicky Vale** _**:** “First of all, I have all the respect in the world for the Waynes. I understand that this is a very difficult time for them and I wish more journalists would respect their wishes for privacy. However, Timothy Wayne was a public figure, one of Gotham’s finest and brightest who had made a name for himself in the business world based on his own merits and hard work. I’ve talked with a lot of people; colleagues, old classmates, neighbors, who all remembers Timothy fondly and wish to honor him - but they can’t.”_

 **Mike Bernstein:** _“Why is that, miss Vale?”_

 **Vicky Vale:** _“There never was a funeral. There is no grave. Not even a memorial. Nothing. It’s been over a month and the Waynes haven’t even released one single statement.”_

 **Mike Bernstein** : _“Really?”_

 **Vicky Vale** _**:** “Yes, and by not giving the late Timothy Wayne, this extremely well-liked and talented young man, a proper funeral, it is sending a message to the public that they’re not welcome to grieve. At least the board of Wayne Enterprises and its CEO Lucius Fox had the decency to pay their respects almost immediately after Tim’s tragic passing.”_

 **Mike Bernstein:** _“Seems like you feel very strongly about this, Ms. Vale?”_

 **Vicky Vale** _: “You know, Mike, I had the pleasure of meeting Timothy a few times. He was such a gentleman, a very generous, caring and intelligent young man. He lost both his parents at a very young age to awful crimes, exactly like Bruce Wayne himself, yet Timothy never let it bring him down. He moved on in life with this brilliant determination to make a real difference for Gotham. I firmly believe that he could have done wonders for our city, had life given him the chance.”_

 **Mike Bernstein:** _“That was lovely said, Ms. Vale.”_

 **Vicky Vale** _**:** “Thank you, Mike.”_

 **Mike Bernstein:** _“So I’ve heard that you will be arranging a candle light ceremony in honor of all the victims of the Drone Terror Attack this Sunday. Please, tell us more about this ceremony.”_

 **Vicky Vale** _**:** “Well, I felt that it was important to do something to honor the victims of the attack so the people of Gotham can show their strength, tenacity and support to the families, including the Waynes. We need to show that we stand united, stronger than ever. It’s this weekend, on Sunday at 7 pm, by Gotham City Bridge. We will then walk together across the bridge and light candles all over it. I think it will be a very beautiful and memorable event.”_

 **Mike Bernstein:** _“Thank you for joining us this morning, Ms. Vale.”_

 **Vicky Vale** _**:** “It’s been my pleasure, Mike.”_

~*~

**_NOVEMBER_ **

**Song:** _Gunshot_ – Lykke Li

 **Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey

 **Time:** 06:52 PM 

The mood is low and mellow, yet also very calm and loving, as the masses on the streets gather over by the Gotham City Bridge. _There must be thousands of people_ , Jason thinks to himself as he comes to a halt on one of the rooftops. He sinks into the shadows of the evening and sits down on the ledge, removes his hood and puts it down next to him.

He wasn’t expecting company tonight, so when he feels a sudden presence move in on him from behind he actually jumps a bit. Stephanie and Cassandra emerge out of the shadows, both without their cowls.

“I thought you quit.” Jason says, nodding in Stephanie’s direction.

“I was going to, but Dick reminded me that it’s not what Tim would have wanted for me. So I’m still here,” she answered, sitting down on Jason’s left side, holding three thick candles in her hands.

“What’s up with the candles?” Jason asked, and before he knew it Stephanie shoved one of the candles into his hands while smiling weakly.

“This is for you. I hope you have a lighter cause we forgot to bring matches.”

Jason chuckled a bit and looked through his pockets, and of course he had a lighter. Two actually, he never left his safe house without them. He handed one over to Stephanie who gladly accepted it and handed over the other candle to Cassandra who was still standing up, looking out over the gathering by the bridge.

“So many people actually showed up.” Cassandra stated matter-of-factly. “That’s good.”

“Anyone heard anything from Bats?” Stephanie asked through gritted teeth. The girl looked cold, as all she was wearing was her Kevlar suit with both her head and hands exposed to the cold wind blowing in from the east. Jason considered for a minute if he should be a gentleman and offer Stephanie his leather jacket, but decided not to.

“No, not a word,” Jason answered flatly. 

“I don’t think they’ll come. Too busy with patrol tonight.” Cassandra said, wrapping an arm over Stephanie’s shoulders in an attempt to warm the other girl.

“Never seen Bats take a night off for anyone so…” Jason muttered, taking out a cigarette. He put it to his lips and lit it up, taking a few deep breaths and exhaled a cloud of thick white smoke through his mouth.

“Did you see that video of Vicky Vale trash talking Bruce? You could almost think she was having a crush on Tim or something. I don’t care much for the woman but I’ll give her this, this whole ceremony idea… it is good.” Stephanie said, actually managing a smile while she spoke. A small laughter even escaped from her when thinking back to the clip. The video had circulated in all her social media for several days. People were actually pissed at Bruce and Vicky’s speech only added more fuel to the bonfire.

“To Tim.” Cassandra suddenly said, lightning her candle and raising it to the skies. Stephanie lit up her candle next and raised it with trembling hands as well, almost looking she was going to give a toast.

“To Tim, my best friend, ex and butt kicking partner. You were the best.” Stephanie almost began crying as she uttered Tim’s name, but she did her best to remain calm. Tonight was about Tim and all the other victims, of showing courage in the face of fear and terror. “And we will never forget you, your kind heart, smart brain and…and…”

“Your great smile.” Jason interrupted, raising his candle as well. Stephanie and Cassandra both looked at Jason in awe, not knowing what to say or do, so instead silence followed for a good ten minutes until Cassandra couldn’t stand the mellow mood any longer.

“Why were you not at the funeral, Jason?” Cassandra asked, looking at Jason with a very neutral, non-judgmental expression.  

“You can hardly call _that_ a funeral, Cass.” Stephanie said before Jason could even compute that Cassandra has asked him a question.

“Well at least it was _something,_ Steph.” Cass and Steph looked at each other, then towards Jason. “My question still stands: where were you?”

“I was out of town on business,” was all Jason had to say. He had almost finished his cigarette, but had a sudden urge to take another one.

“Must have been very important business then, considering you skipped out on your little brother’s funeral.” Stephanie hadn’t meant for it to sound so cruel, her emotions clouded her judgement. She realized immediately what she’d said, but wasn’t able to apologize before Jason got up to his feet and put on the red hood, ready to leave. “Jason, I’m sorry-”

“He was **_not_** my brother.” Jason growled from underneath the hood.

“Not by blood perhaps, but he looked up to you.” Cassandra said, not looking Jason’s way.

Jason brought out his grappling gun, shaking his head in doubt and anger at the two women. Maybe if he ignored them long enough, they’d leave him alone. When Jason didn’t answer, Cassandra stood up as well and went over to Jason, grabbing him firmly by the arm before he could jump off the ledge and leave. “Why is that so hard for you to believe that?”

“You know why. Or have you forgotten that I tried to kill the kid twice? Or that I beat him up several times, called him names and treated him like a piece of shit?”

Stephanie went over to Cassandra and Jason, her eyes all concerned and full of humility, the total opposite of what they had expressed just a minute ago.

“That’s in the past, Jason. In recent years the two of you came along just fine.” Steph said, her hands landing on her hips as she tried to get eye contact with Jason. “Besides, Tim forgave you for all of that.”

“What?” Jason hadn’t meant to sound so chocked, but his emotions were giving him away almost like a free meal to starving dogs. He started feeling way too exposed, way too out of his comfort zone. He needed to get off this rooftop immediately.

“You didn’t know? I thought he told you.” Stephanie and Cassandra looked at each other in surprise, a puzzled look on their faces bouncing back and forth between them. Jason felt his chest tighten, his breath quickening. This conversation was suffocating him, slowly, painfully. But before he could leave, he had to know.

“Why would he forgive me?” He was well aware how sensitive and vulnerable he sounded in his voice when he asked them. He wanted to punch himself, man up for fucks sake! Both Cassandra and Stephanie gave him a look of sympathy.

“He believed in you, more than anyone else I know.” Stephanie murmured, almost whispered.

“You might not believe me when I tell you this, but you meant so much to Tim. More than you could possibly imagine. He defended you, insisted you’d changed, that you were redeeming yourself. I think he really wanted to hang onto the Robin inside of you.” Steph put a hand on Jason’s arm. “You’re after all the reason he became Robin, Jason.”

“Which means I’m also the reason we’re all standing here.” Jason wrestled out of Steph’s grip, launched his grappling gun and jumped off the roof before either Steph or Cass could stop him.

“No, Jason, wait that’s not what I meant!” But the girl’s voices faded away in his ears as he jumped from building to building, shutting out all the noises, all the feelings and every piece of memory.

_Lay me down in your ocean_

_Carry me and my burden_

_I was dreaming about you honey_

_I was hoping you'd save me_

 

~*~

**_DECEMBER_ **

**Song _:_** Lover, where do you Live? – Highasakite

 **Location:** Gotham Cemetery, Gotham

 **Time** : 05:44 PM

It had been more than three months since Tim had died and the crisp autumn breezes had already turned into the cold, harsh winds of winter. Two days earlier the first snow had arrived to Gotham and there was still a thin layer of white scattered all over the city landscape. It was so beautiful and calming when the otherwise dark and gritty city turned into this almost magical winter wonderland.

The people seemed different as well, they felt more at ease, more friendly and helpful than usual, even the ones who rarely did little else than annoy and cause trouble. Which is probably why Stephanie didn’t think it odd that she was visiting Gotham Cemetery together with Damian out of all people. Barbara, Cassandra and Dick were there as well, yet it was Damian’s presence that warmed her heart the most.

They were all heading over to the Wayne family’s grave site to look over the area and discuss Tim’s grave. It had been a joint decision to head out today, even though Bruce and Alfred were out of town. Maybe it was for the best, Stephanie thought to herself as they closed in on the grave.

She didn’t know what to expect at the grave site, but she sure as hell wasn’t expecting to find _this_. Stephanie felt how her body tensed up all over, her hands turning into shaking fists in her pockets.

“Looks like someone beat us to it.” Cassandra said.

Right next to the large, mighty gravestone belonging to the Waynes was this discreet, small wooden cross. It was easy to miss at first sight, but once you’d seen it was hard not to notice how much it stood out in the otherwise clean and proper environment. Someone had more or less just taken two small wooden planks and made a cross out of them, put it in the dirt and scattered flowers around it. Stephanie noticed that the flowers were fresh, not more than a few hours old perhaps. They were myosotis, forget-me-nots. Tim’s favorite, and definitely not in season right now.

“I wish I knew who did this. I’d like to hug them, kiss them, thank them, buy them dinner, flowers...” Stephanie began ranting as she felt her eyes watering up and her body shaking. She dropped to her knees in front of the grave, the cold and wet snow soaking her newly bought black stockings. Barbara took a step forward and squatted down next to Stephanie and took a good look at the grave.

 _“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. The kid with a great smile.”_ Barbara said.

 “What?” Stephanie looked up at Barbara who pointed towards the cross ahead of them and that’s when Stephanie noticed the tiny letters on the planks, barely visible to the eye from a distance of more than half a meter. Barbara put an arm around Stephanie, embracing her smaller body and gently stroking her head with her other hand. Stephanie could swear she felt tears fall from Barbara’s face onto her head, and the sobbing sounds coming from behind her could only be Dick.

It was Damian who was the first one to speak up, cutting through the tension like a sharp knife. “Drake was a soldier. He accepted the risks and died honorably.” Damian muttered.

Stephanie knew Damian missed Tim, even though he’d never admit to it or say it outright. But damn, that kid always knew where to stab the knife for the deepest cut, how to twist and turn it just where it hurt the most. If it wasn’t for the fact that Stephanie was being held so lovingly and tightly by Barbara, she would easily have sprinted over to Damian, picked him up and held him tight. Instead she saw in the corner of her eye how Dick put a hand on Damian’s right shoulder, squeezing it tightly.

They all remained there for an hour, maybe more, Stephanie did not really pay attention. It was first when Cassandra pointed out how it had begun to snow again that they all came back to reality. They said very little else on their way back home that afternoon, just an occasional comment on the weather or traffic.

Stephanie was walking lost in her own thoughts, trying to figure it all out, when it suddenly dawned upon her like a punch o the face. She brought out her phone and started typing a message frantically and pressed the send button.

**[06:33 PM Stephanie:  
It is perfect. He always loved forget-me-nots, how did you know?]**

The answer arrived almost immediately.

**[06:34 PM Jason  
Don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.]**

Of course he’d say that, Stephanie thought and smiled, typing a response.

 **[06:35 PM Stephanie:  
I am sure you do. Just wanted to say thanks.]**

**[06:38 PM Jason:  
** **Whatever.]**

**[06:40 PM Stephanie:  
Thank you, Jason. Really.]**

 

Jason stood on top of one of the city’s larger skyscrapers, phone trembling in his hand with Stephanie’s message still open. He was supposed to head out for patrol right now, and yet he felt frozen to the spot where he stood. Jason scrolled up through their conversation, reading Stephanie’s earlier messages. “ _He always loved forget-me-nots_ …” Jason felt a sudden pain to his chest, a rising tension in his throat, it was getting hard to breath. He dropped the phone to the ground, not really caring that the screen probably was a lost cause by now.

Suddenly he felt a wetness on his face and with shaking fingers he tried to wipe away the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling. Jason forcefully threw his hood away with a loud scream, it smashed into the nearby concrete wall and fell to the ground. Jason sat down on the roof, his legs hanging over the ledge, dangling freely in the wind. “ _He always loved forget-me-nots, how did you know?”_ Jason put his face into his palms, trying to hide the emotions tearing him apart from the inside.

He didn’t know for how long he ended up sitting there on that rooftop all by himself, but when the early morning light slowly caressed his body he knew he had to get a move on.

 _Fuck patrol,_ Jason thought to himself while picking up his phone and the red hood, taking out his grappling gun, ready to head back home for some sleep. But while he was taking the route heading towards his safe house, he suddenly changed his mind and took a detour downtown.

Sleep later.

Flowers first.

_If I ever see you again, my love_

_All I'm ever gonna do_

_Is send shivers down that spine of yours_

 

~*~

**17 MONTHS LATER**

**_TIM/ALVIN_ **

**Song:** _Dancing on My Own_ \- Robyn

 **Location:** Reykjavik, Iceland

 **Time:** 07:05 PM 

“Okay guys, that’s a wrap!” Danyal Norlin, the head designer of the Scandinavian fashion brand _Norlins_ , entered the room in a hurry and immediately took center stage. Her two interns followed suit, carrying a bunch of coffee mugs and two large bags of authentic-looking whole-wheat sandwiches wrapped in thin, brown paper. Danyal took two of the cups and began handing them out to all of her staff, guests and models.

“Great work today as always and thank you all so much for being so patient with us. Why is it that technology always has so screw things up right when you’re doing the most important work?” Danyal tried to laugh it off and got a cheer from the back of the room.

The whole day had been chaotic with late deliveries in the early morning, followed up with two hungover models and, finally, lights that stopped working in the middle of the photo sessions. Danyal had every right to feel as stressed out and drained as she looked. She took one of the larger cappuccino’s and headed further into the back of the crowd, finally finding her favorite photographer in the corner, packing up all his gear and cameras.

“Hi there, Alvin! I had Sara and Marit get you an extra-large with cinnamon on top.” Danyal handed over the coffee cup to Alvin, their guest photographer from the UK, who gave her a look of slight disapproval. “Not good? Damn. It’s the cinnamon, isn’t it?”

Alvin got up to his feet, returned the cup to Danyal and threw his two bags over his shoulders, looking ready to leave.

“I prefer my coffee black, but it’s alright, don’t sweat it.” Alvin said and immediately headed towards the exit in long strides. Danyal had to run after him in her high heels in order to keep up with Alvin. “I’ll have my editor send over the photos once they’re finished.”

“Oh good, thank you so much for today and as I said, I am so terribly sorry for all the mess. Just my luck that everything goes to hell when you’re here, right?” Danyal once again tried to laugh it all away, like humor could make up for the fact that Alvin was forty minutes late to his dinner reservation with his friends.

He was actually really pissed and stressed but knew better than to take it out on Danyal, it was not her fault, not really. Sure, the logistics and planning of their photoshoot could have been way better but it didn’t matter now. Instead Alvin stopped in his tracks and reached out a hand to Danyal with a friendly smile plastered all over his face.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you, Ms. Norlin. I hope you don’t mind but I really need to get going, I have friends waiting over at my hotel.”

“Please, let me get you a cab at least! We cover all of the costs. It’s the least we can do after this disastrous day.” Alvin shrugged and gave her a weak, tired smile in response. He then gladly accepted the cab ride into town and followed Danyal outside, who immediately headed into the traffic, trying to stop the first cab she could find.

 

-*-

Alvin was all too well aware of the fact that he was at least an hour late by the time he got to his hotel. Their dinner reservation was most likely  lost by now so he browsed through Yelp in a hurry, trying his best to come up with a backup plan. Maybe they could just go out for drinks and get wasted? Alvin sure felt like it, especially after today.

When he finally entered the hotel lobby he saw his two friends sitting and waiting patiently for him over by the hotel bar. It was no surprise they looked at him with great disapproval as he went over to them, dumping the bags on the floor and sighing heavily.  

“I know what you are going to say and no, I was not busy with ‘ _some guy’_. I got stuck at work. I’m sorry.”

“We’ve been waiting in this bar for more than an hour. I don’t even know how many drinks or cigarettes Janet has had, I stopped counting long ago.” The smaller of the two women said, her arms tightly wrapped around the taller woman next to her. The taller woman was smoking a cigarette and looked tired, which made Alvin feel even more guilty for not showing up on time.

“Sorry, our photo session took way longer than expected. Fucking amateurs. But now I’ve got everything I need, so…” He trailed off and tried his best to use his great smile, the one with white teeth and dimples, as a last resort to get out of trouble. It usually worked.

The younger, smaller woman chuckled slightly and bumped into the other woman, making her almost fall over in her chair and drop her cigarette.

“It’s cool, Alvin. Don’t worry about it. We know you’re here for work.” She said, giving Alvin a genuine smile in return. The other woman grabbed her whiskey glass, took it all in one sip and pointed a finger at Alvin, looking very drunk and hazy.

“All is forgiven IF you buy all our drinks for the rest of the evening, Al.”

“Looks like you’ve had enough already.” Alvin said, laughing slightly at his friend’s boldness. The taller woman only smirked and got up, headed over to Alvin and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug 

“Nah, I’m good. Let’s go out of here, there’s this new place down by the harbor I’m dying to visit.”

Alvin rolled his eyes and pulled away. The two women giggled and started walking towards the hotel exit. Alvin sighed, drew a hand through his messy hair and checked his phone. 20:34. Man, he longed for this hotel bed.

“Alvin! Come on!”

It was going to be a long night, alright.

 

_And I'm giving it my all,_

_but I'm not the guy you're taking home, ooh_

_I keep dancing on my own_

 

~*~

 


	2. Flashing Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, chapter 2! 
> 
> First of all, I want to say thank you for all of the nice comments, kudos and hits on my first chapter. It really warms my heart that you all took the time to read the first chapter and that so many of you also enjoyed it. I hope you’ll like the second chapter just as much and that I can live up to your expectations. 
> 
> Second of all, a warning: this is the final chapter free from smut. From chapter 3 and onward there will be a lot of smut present throughout the series. So if smut is not your thing, don’t read beyond this chapter. 
> 
> I might also add that I will add a few tags to this story as it progresses. All tags are not visible yet since I don't want to spoil the ending. 
> 
> A big hug and thank you to my beta and best bud, Sally (champagneleftie), who once again helped me out big time! Thanks for reading and correcting these 8,000 words on your free time. You’re the best.
> 
> Here is the link to the Spotify Playlist for Chapter 2:  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/chowayu/playlist/4cl12ICwpV2uWhcLej2P6f
> 
> Playlist for Chapter 2:  
> American Teen - Khalid  
> GIRLS GIRLS – Icona Pop  
> Signs – Drake  
> Capsize – FRENSHIP, Emily Warren  
> Way Down We Go - Kaleo  
> 1-800-273-8255 – Logic, Alessia Cara, Khalid  
> Never Forget You – Zara Larsson, MNEK  

****_TIM/ALVIN  
_**Song:** _American Teen -_ Khalid  
**Location:** Reykjavik, Iceland  
**Time:** 10:15 PM

When the phone finally stops vibrating and the screen goes back to black, Alvin lets out a sigh of relief. He is well aware that this was the sixth time in the last hour and a half that Ben’s been trying to call him, but Alvin just can’t muster himself enough to actually care. The phone vibrates again, but this time it’s only a text.

 **[10:16 HR-Ben:**  
**Fuck you, Draper.**  
**Why can’t you answer your phone like normal people?]**

Because “normal” people don’t talk on the phone in this day and age, “normal” people text. There are at least six ways Ben could contact him through his phone that doesn’t involve them actually talking, maybe even seven if Ben would just get Tinder instead of pestering their interns. Alvin’s sure Ben knows that he won’t answer no matter how many times Ben insists on calling him, it’s simply way more effective to hang up and send a text. But Ben is the kind of person who calls you as in response to a text message. He is the kind of person who insists on having an actual conversation simply to chat. And he rarely has anything important to say, it’s always the same chatter about how boring work is, whether or not he should go to the gym this weekend, or his absolute favorite: Downton Abbey. Alvin has stopped counting the number of times he’s had to endure lengthy calls from Ben on the topic of Lady Mary and whether or not she should have remarried in season 5. Alvin couldn’t give less of a fuck, so for eight days straight now he’s been ignoring all of Ben’s calls.

**[10:17 HR-Ben:  
Your flight’s been rescheduled btw, dickhead.]**

Well, fuck. He can almost feel Ben hovering over his shoulder, smelling like that awful cologne he insists on bathing in every morning. He hears Ben’s annoyingly superior, posh voice telling him over and over again, ‘ _This is what happens when you don’t pick up your phone, Draper’._ No, Ben, this is what happens when you’re a twat and don’t text.

Alvin checks his e-mail. Damn, his flight’s been rescheduled for tomorrow afternoon instead of tonight, which means he’ll be late for his appointment at their head office on Manhattan in the morning. Eva, his boss, had insisted for weeks that he’d attend as a representative from the UK office. Thankfully, there appears to be an earlier flight leaving in two hours. For once he’s grateful he lives out of his backpack.

“I need to get going, guys. Got a plane to catch.” Alvin gets up from their booth and throws some cash on the table and makes sure to leave a way bigger tip than is actually necessary. He heaves up both his bags and throws the weekend bag over his left shoulder, the leather strap chafing against his neck as he struggles with the backpack.

“But I thought you were leaving later tonight?” Tina looks over at Alvin with a bit of surprise in her eyes while patting a very drunk Janet on the back. The two of them are sitting on the opposite ends of the booth next to each other. Janet is practically sleeping, all curled up next to Tina with her head resting on Tina’s shoulder.

“Well, there’s been a change of plans. Now I got to hurry and find myself a cab.” Alvin heads on over to Tina and tries his best to give her a hug without falling over the edge of the sofa. It’s an awkward hug to say the least, especially since Janet makes absolutely no attempts at getting up so Tina can move her arms.

“A cab? Are you high? Take a fucking Uber.” Janet slurs from her half-slumber. Tina chuckles and nods in agreement before pushing Janet upwards from her comfortable sleeping posture. Janet falls back against the wall, looking slightly disappointed. Tina leans over and brushes away a few strands of Janet’s red hair from her face, and kisses her girlfriend tenderly on the forehead.

“For once, you actually have a good idea, baby.” Janet scoffs at Tina before pulling her into an embrace, holding her tight, protectively. Alvin smiles their way and blushes slightly at their public display of affection towards each other. Janet won’t ever admit to it but sometimes she lingers with a very pure gaze of adoration on her girlfriend, as if she can’t fully grasp that this beautiful woman next to her would ever choose her out of all people. Likewise, Alvin won’t admit to secretly hoping that one day someone will look at him in that same manner, like he’s _everything_ to someone.   

“Do you want us to walk with you? We can take the scenic route down by the harbor.” Tina’s very chirpy and high-pitched voice startles Alvin abruptly and wakes him out of his thoughts. Janet rolls her eyes and sighs before chugging down the remainder of her beer.

“That’s her vague way of saying ‘You don’t have a say in this and let’s go.’” Janet says and gets up from her seat, pulling Tina with her and pushing her forward out of the booth. Tina grabs both of their jackets and hands Janet her black, leather jacket before putting on her own dark navy trench coat. Tina grabs her crimson Michael Kors bag from underneath the table. Before she can grab her wallet, Alvin puts down some more Icelandic crowns on their table.

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve got you covered. Drinks were on me, remember?”

Janet grins and high fives Alvin while Tina smiles gratefully his way, before the three of them head on out into the summer night.

~*~

 **** _TIM/ALVIN  
_ Song: _GIRLS GIRLS_ – Icona Pop  
**Location:** Reykjavik, Iceland  
**Time:** 10:38 PM 

“So how’s the new apartment? I’m sorry I couldn’t attend the house warming party.” Alvin says sincerely as they approach the last pier down by the docks.

“It’s fine, Alvin. We know you’re busy with work and all.” Tina says, wrapping her trench coat tighter around her tiny body. “The apartment is really nice but we had to renovate the kitchen before moving in. The old kitchen hadn’t been touched since the early 1960’s.”

“It was fine. It was you who wanted a black and white IKEA kitchen with marble countertops.” Janet says as she finally catches up with them from her smoke break. She smells intensely of cigarettes, beer and cheap perfume, as she puts one arm over Alvin’s shoulders. Janet proceeds to scowl over her shoes and Tina makes a remark on how she’d told her earlier that evening that Janet would regret wearing those heels later on.

Alvin meanwhile fumbles with his iPhone as the Uber app takes forever to load. Finally, the app decides to work in his favor and Alvin immediately requests a ride. It doesn’t take long for a nearby driver to accept his request and the app displays an estimated time of arrival in 10 minutes at the nearby bus stop.

“Fuck I hate heels!” Janet suddenly groans loudly and comes to a halt. She proceeds to take of her heels, now standing all bare feet on the concrete ground.

“Then why do you insist on wearing them if they bother you so much?” Tina sighs, trying her best not to laugh at Janet’s sudden and odd behavior.

“Because they make me look hot.” Janet shrugs, swinging her shoes back and forth.

“You’re always hot, baby.” 

“Well, good, that settles it then.” Janet faces the pier, which is approximately thirty feet away, and throws one of the shoes its way. It’s way off and the shoe falls into the water with a great splash. Tina snorts loudly, covering her mouth with both her hands to hold back the laughter.

“You do realize those are authentic Jimmy Choo’s, right?” Alvin states matter-of-factly, pointing towards the remaining shoe in Janet’s right hand.

“Look how many fucks I give for Jimmy fucking Choo.” And with that Janet throws the other shoe in the same direction. It meets the exact same fate as its twin and disappears into the dark waters. Janet turns towards Tina and grins. “Now you’re going to have to carry me back home.”

“You wish.” Tina answers in response while walking away with Alvin next to her. Janet hurries after them, cursing over the fact that the ground is cold. Alvin’s phone makes a buzzing sound and it’s the app notifying him that his driver has arrived at the pickup point. The three friends hurry up a set of stairs, the bus stop just a few hundred feet away. They laugh heartedly at all the puzzled looks Janet receives from confused bystanders as they run across the busy street.

When they finally reach their destination there’s a young man waiting, probably a student, in front of a red Toyota Yaris. Alvin nods in his direction before turning to Tina and Janet.

“Anyway, it’s been fun. You two take care now.” He hugs Janet first and when she hugs him back she makes sure to ruffle his hair, messing up his perfect hairdo. In response Alvin only snickers and pulls up his hoodie over his head. Tina then comes over and embraces him for a good two minutes. When they part she looks at him fondly and squeezes his arm.

“You stay safe over there now, you hear?”

“It’s New York, not Damascus. I’ll be fine.” Alvin pulls of his backpack and weekend back and heaves both of them into the back seat of the Toyota. “I’d be more worried about Janet’s sanity if I were you.”

Alvin gets into the car next to the driver. His friends come up to his window, waving with great smiles on their faces. The driver asks where Alvin’s headed and starts the GPS. Alvin asks him to get to the airport as fast as he possibly can, before waving back towards his friends as they drive away. He looks in the rear view mirror on his right and sees in the distance how Janet throws an arm around Tina, pulling her into a tight hug and snogs her up. Not giving a fuck in the entire world.

 

~*~

 **** _TIM/ALVIN  
_**Song:** _Signs -_ Drake  
**Location:** Reykjavik, Iceland  
**Time:** 10:33 PM

Alvin is in the middle of a discussion with his driver/self-proclaimed Netflix expert, Adam, about this new series called _‘Disjointed’_ , when his phone vibrates in his pocket. At first he assumes it to be Ben but it’s actually Eva, his boss at GQ. He immediately looks for his headset in his pockets, plugs it in and answers. Eva’s voice comes through on the other end of the line. She actually sounds less frustrated than he’d expected.

 **EVA:** _**“** Why aren’t you at the airport already?”_

 **ALVIN:** _“Sorry to break it to you like this but I’m not Superman.”_

 **EVA:** _“Please tell me you’ve checked in online at least.”_

Alvin can almost picture how Eva massages her temples gently to release the stress. She’s probably still at the office as she always works late, especially on the weekends. She won’t admit to it out loud but Alvin knows that it’s just not the same to come home to an empty apartment when you’ve grown accustomed to always being welcomed home by a warm meal, a loving smile and questions about your day. Nowadays it’s only dark, quiet rooms with Netflix for company and old, cold take-outs from the local Indian restaurant. And Eva absolutely loathes Indian food. Alvin knows this because Eva has, just like Ben, entrusted all her secrets and struggles to Alvin over drinks. It seems he has that effect on people. 

 **ALVIN** _: “Working on it, we’re driving there as we speak. Should arrive shortly.”_

 **EVA** **:** _“Let’s just hope for your own sake that you are on that plane when it takes off. I take it your evening has been delightful?"_

 **ALVIN** **:** _“Absolutely. Met up with friends, went out for drinks, sacrificed a pair of Jimmy Choo’s. The usual.”_

Alvin can’t help but laugh slightly at the last bit. Eva joins in and sounds genuinely happy. He hasn’t heard her laugh that way ever since he started working for her, which was a month before Mark left her for that Russian stewardess.

 **EVA:** _“Scandinavians sure know how to have a good time. I’m so jealous of you. By the way, are you actually allowed to drink over there?”_

 **ALVIN:** _“Eva. You do realize I just turned 20, right? I can drink wherever and whenever I want.”_

 **EVA:** _“Not in the US, kiddo.”_

 **ALVIN:** _“What? You’re kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding.”_

 **EVA:** _“Nope, you’re going to have to go back to soda for all your parties and dinners over there. No more Chardonnay, no more Chablis, no more Rioja-”_

 **ALVIN:** _“Stop this torture, please.”_

 **EVA:** _“No champagne.”_

 **ALVIN:** _“Okay, I’m so not leaving now.”_

 **EVA:** _“So champagne’s the deal breaker? Anyway, when you get to New York, Ben has booked you a room at the Plaza- “_

 **ALVIN:** _“Ben? Ben has booked me a room at The Plaza? What have I done to deserve such royal treatment?”_

 **EVA:** _“Don’t get any ideas. He still hates you with a burning passion, but I’m his boss. Besides, I need some really good material since Joel’s photos from Paris were sub-par, to say the least.”_

 **ALVIN:** _“Joel’s still in Paris?”_

Joel Bech, artsy hipster student and intern who insists on shooting everything with black and white filters, had gotten the prestigious task of attending the _Paris Men’s Fashion Week_. Alvin hasn’t really thought much about it, until now that is. Eva proceeds to tell Alvin about how Joel’s visit has been an absolute disaster. It has yielded very few actual photographs. Instead, she has received several bills from hip inner city clubs and bars in Paris. There was even one bill from an escort service, which had resulted in an extremely furious Eva and an awkward visit to Joel’s parents. No one has heard a word from the artsy, hipster kid since.

 **EVA:** _“Before I forget – I want something different for our next issue. We’ve had interviews with so many actors and musicians lately, our readers want something different. Like politicians, inventors, economists, and seeing how you’re about to visit the holy land of capitalism, I want you to get me the best piece you’ve ever done, Draper. Front page and five-page in-depth interview. Get me someone from the elite and I’ll give you a hefty raise this fall.”_

 **ALVIN:** _“Are you saying you’ve actually grown tired of our “10 Perfect Plaid Flannel shirts under $100” articles?”_

 **EVA:** _“Oh don’t get me started on those flannels. “_

 **ALVIN:** _“The Best Plaid Coats to Buy right now?”_

 **EVA:** _“Dear god, not plaid.”_

 **ALVIN:** _“Or how about ‘6 After Dinner Drinks that will Trick your Guest into thinking you’re Classy.’?”_

 **EVA:** _“Is that actually one of ours?”_

 **ALVIN:** _“All of them are ours and all are up on the website as we speak.”_

Both of them laughs loudly at that, Eva almost starts to cry from laughing so hard on the other end of the line. She takes a deep breath to calm herself down.

 **EVA:** _“But seriously, Draper, find me something really good, ‘kay? Someone unexpected, but whom people will have heard of sufficiently to make them curious and wanting more. Maybe a business magnet or industrialist?”_

The car comes to a stop. The driver gives a thumbs up to Alvin, notifying him of their arrival.

 **ALVIN:** _“I’ll see what I can do, but I gotta get out of my Uber ride now. Talk to you later?”_

 **EVA:** _“You took an actual Uber? Tell me, how are you still alive?”_

~*~

 **** _TIM/ALVIN  
_**Song:** _Capsize –_ FRENSHIP, Emily Warren  
**Location** : Keflavik Airport, Reykjavik, Iceland  
**Time:** 10:57 PM 

It’s almost past 11 PM when Alvin finally passes through the security control at Keflavik Airport. Of course _he_ had been randomly handpicked by the personnel for an extensive security check, and of course it’s conveniently timed with the inevitable return of his migraine. As a result, he snaps rudely at all the people around him, even going as far as flipping off a young woman who simply asks him to calm down. He feels like a piece of shit when they return with his luggage and gives him permission to continue towards the terminal, so he immediately storms off and leaves without apologizing to anyone.

Ten minutes later, he finds himself at _Te & Kaffi_, a local coffee chain similar to Starbucks. He buys himself an extra large coffee and a bottle of sparkling water. He heads over to the empty bar ledge by the entrance, sits down and drops his bags on the floor. While taking a few sips of his very hot coffee he reaches down for his backpack, picks it up and drops it on the table in front of him. He pulls the zipper open and begins looking through the mess that is his luggage and lets out deep sigh of relief when he finally gets his hands on the pills. He swallows two of them with a mouthful of water and lets out a deep sigh of relief.

As of late his migraines are becoming more frequent and more intense. As much as he’d like for it to be work-related, he knows deep down that there is more to it. Sure, the combination of all the stress over at GQ with this rather unhealthy lifestyle of his, with all its late nights, alcohol and inconsistent meals, isn’t really helping. But the real cause is his anxiety from his amnesia. He’s certain of it.

Not remembering his past self… _hurts_. Not knowing where one belongs, where one’s friends and family are or if they are even alive, _hurts even more_. He remembers his parents, their faces and names are haunting his dreams every night. _Jack and Janet_. He remembers parts of his hometown, its cold and gritty city streets, the dark alleyways and the high skyscrapers. _Gotham_.

And he remembers _him_. The rebellious, brave prankster vigilante kid who patrolled along Batman. Oh yes, he remembers the Batman and Robin of his youth and how he ran after them in the middle of the night, trying his best to snap a photo or two of them in action. He remembers scraping his knees and getting blisters on his hands whenever he climbed up on the rooftops via fire escapes, dumpsters or window ledges. He did it over and over again, just for a good shot. He supposed some things never changed.

 _Speaking of Robin_ …

Alvin looks down at his left wrist and lets his fingers slowly trail over his new tattoo. It’s a year and date in black, bold, cursive numbers, tattooed vertically on his left wrist. His fingers linger over the date and when he closes his eyes he can almost see the former Robin before his eyes with that stupid grin of his plastered all over his face.

[[Icelandair 622, departing for New York, will soon begin its boarding over by Gate 8.]]

Alvin looks dazed and out of it when he tries to compute what he’d just heard. Oh yeah, his flight. He finishes his coffee quickly and throws away the cup into the nearby trash can when he heads out towards the terminal for international flights, not stopping once as he ventures through the tax free area.

He comes to a sudden halt over by the check out, where he picks up a multipack of gum with the flavor of fresh mint and eucalyptus while eying the magazines. And there it is, their latest issue. Alvin picks up the latest issue of GQ UK and tucks it under his arm. In the corner of his eye he sees a woman who keeps going back and forth between two shelves of colognes for men. She looks rather flustered and unsure when she tries to figure out what to do with all the bottles before she picks one up, sniffs on it and shakes her head. Too bad, Versace’s _Eros_ is a really nice and priceworthy cologne, but you do need a certain kind of personality or style to really pull it off, to become one with it. Alvin knows this, he owns it.

Alvin heads over to the cologne section with determined strides and stops right next to the same woman. He leans over and picks up Jean Paul Gaultier ‘ _Le Male’_. Alvin sprays a little on a test strip before turning to the woman next to him.

“Try this, it’s not as intense or musky as _Eros_.” _Only way more generic and bland_ , Alvin thinks to himself as the woman leans forward and takes a quick sniff of the test strip. As she leans back she has this pleased expression all over her face. Bingo, of course she loves it.

“It’s really nice, I think Harry would love this.” She grabs one of the packages of Le Male and looks at the price tag. “And not very expensive either. You have great taste, young man.”

Alvin gives the woman a gentle smile in return. He knows he has great taste in basically everything, he’s been told so on many occasions before. He knows exactly what to say, do, wear and style for any kind of occasion, be it casual, formal or even hiking. It’s like it’s this fundamental part of his personality, and yet he can’t truly explain how he knows all of these things. And yet, having a sixth sense for style has certainly had its advantages, especially when he applied for the job at GQ.

“Thank you, I’m glad I could help. Harry’s what, your son?”

“Yes! Oh my, how did you know?”

“Well you don’t buy this kind of cologne for an older man, it’s way too sensual, oriental and deep. It is, however, a bestseller among young men between 25-35.” The woman looks at him with a puzzled look. “I’m a journalist/photographer. I normally only do freelance but I’ve been at GQ for quite a while now.” Alvin shows her the magazine he’s got tucked under his arm. “You tend to memorize such useless facts over there.”

“Oh, yes! I think Harry reads it. Perhaps you can help me find something for my husband as well? I always end up buying _Old Spice_ and he’s grown tired of it.”

 _Oh sweet lord, poor man._ “When it comes to older men, you really want to wear a timeless, classic fragrance. It’s a jungle to navigate really, but there is always _this_.” Alvin immediately heads for the opposite shelf and picks out a bottle. _Giorgio Armani Aqua di Gio_.

“ _Aqua di Gio_ from Giorgio Armani is a true classic. It’s a very aromatic and versatile cologne. A bit more expensive than ‘ _Le Male’_ but it’s definitely worth it.”

The woman only nods her head enthusiastically and grabs one of the bottles for herself. She takes a good look at them both before smiling gratefully towards Alvin.

[[Now boarding flight Icelandair 622, departing for New York in 15 minutes. Please go to gate 8 and have your flight ticket ready when boarding.]]

“Seems like I better get moving. Good luck with the gifts!” Alvin turns and leaves in a hurry, barely hearing the woman giving him her thanks. He pays for the gum and his magazine before heading towards gate 8. He thinks to himself what a contrast this situation has been to his earlier experience over at the security control. Shit, his migraines always make him into such a cranky asshole.

Thankfully, Keflavik is not a large airport so getting to the gate in time turns out to not be much of a problem. When he shows up at the gate everyone else has already boarded the plane. He looks for his ticket in his pockets and hurries forward towards the lady. He apologizes even though he isn’t late.

Alvin hurries down the hallway and is greeted by two stewards by the entrance to the plane. The air inside the plane is rather cold, so he pulls up his hoodie over his head and zips up his jacket. As he enters the plane its thankfully not full, only half of all the seats are occupied. He walks down the aisle to his seat which is by a window next to the right wing. There is a middle-aged man sitting in the seat next to his, reading a book. While Alvin puts away his bags in the luggage compartment above, the man gets up from his seat and Alvin does his best to squeeze in next to him. Once he’s finally seated he leans back in the seat and pulls out his headphones.

Alvin looks down at his watch and proceeds to change the time. The flight is going to be approximately 5 hours and 40 minutes, which means he’ll be arriving to New York around 06:00 AM. But since he has to turn back the clock it is actually going to be in the middle of the night upon their arrival, 01:40 AM to be more precise. Wow, he is going to be so tired at the morning meeting.

The stewards pass by their seats, informing all the passengers to please pay attention to the security routine they’ll be going through in a few minutes. Alvin only nods in response and proceeds to put on his headphones and plug them into his phone. Seeing how he has several hours to kill, he might as well watch one of his downloaded movies now when he finally has the time. He scrolls through the different movie titles, finally settling for Deadpool.

~*~

 **** _TIM/ALVIN  
_**Song:** _Way Down We Go_ \- Kaleo ****  
Location: New York City, United States  
**Time:** 02:25 AM

Waiting in line is surely some divine power’s attempt to test humanity’s patience. The fact that the queues for domestic flights and U.S. citizens are way more effective than the ones for international flights only makes it so much worse. Alvin looks on in jealousy as the domestic flights keeps on moving ahead while he’s been standing at the same spot for what seems like an eternity. Alright, 25 minutes but _still_. The 6 hours already spent on the plane had been very uneventful and Alvin is growing increasingly restless and tired. It doesn’t help that there’s a family right ahead of him with a newborn baby who won’t stop crying. The baby is being carried by its father in a baby carrier while the mother tries to calm it down by singing a lullaby in some language Alvin slightly recognizes, maybe Dutch.

The man from the plane is standing right behind him, still completely captivated by his crime novella. Alvin looks over his shoulder and tries to get a better glimpse at which one it is. _L’Étranger._ Ah, _The Stranger_ by Albert Camus. Alvin is actually rather impressed that the man seems to read it in its original language, French. He sure doesn’t look like someone who enjoys reading in the first place. Well, if he is going to spend the rest of his life at this airport he might as well be civilized and socialize with his fellow inmates.

“Hey, again. Sorry to bother you, but what do you think of the novel?”

The man looks up from his novel and greets Alvin with the kindest of smiles. He makes sure to put the bookmark securely in place before shutting the book.

“ _C'est magnifique_!” The man laughs and puts away his book in his hand luggage. “It’s always been one of my absolute favorites. My daughter has met a man who’s French, so I thought I should practice my French a bit before meeting him.”

“Sounds nice. Where are you from?” Alvin asks while moving his bags a bit nonchalantly with his right foot along the floor when the queue finally moves on a little.

“Trondheim, Norway. And you?” The man adjusts his glasses on his nose and takes off his knitted cardigan. No surprise, it is getting really hot inside the airport now with so many people sharing the same space and air. Alvin follows suit and removes his grey hoodie from his head and then takes it off completely, throwing it over his shoulder.

“I live in London.”

“But you don’t sound very British?”

“Well, that’s because I’m not. I’m actually American.”

“Shouldn’t you be standing over there in the other queue then?” The man nodded his head towards the opposite side of the room where the domestic queues were lining up once more.

Alvin didn’t really know how to answer that question. Yes, he thought he should be able to stand over there but his passport didn’t agree with him.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated, but-”

“Oh my god!” Suddenly a woman is screaming from the opposite end of the room. All the other passengers look around frantically, some getting slightly nervous. “You’re alive!”

Alvin sees in the corner of his eye how an almost hysterical woman and her husband, a couple in their early 60s, are coming over to their queue. At first he gives it very little attention, but then he realizes to his absolute horror that the woman is heading in his direction. Even worse, it is him she’s pointing at with her shaking fingers. Her husband seems to simply tag along for the drama, practically hiding behind his wife as she pushes her way forward through the crowd. When the woman finally reaches Alvin she pulls him into a hug. Just like that. No questions asked. Alvin absolutely loathes it and tries to pull back without hurting the woman.

“I _knew_ I recognized you! Tell him, Harold!” The woman looks at her husband and then back to Alvin. “Oh my dear… Bruce will be so pleased to hear you’re alive! We all thought you died, Timothy!”

Alvin frees himself from the woman’s embrace, carefully making sure not to hurt her even though she’s been embarrassing the hell out of him in front of all these people. He reaches for his two bags and takes a few steps back from the line, feeling his whole body tense up as the woman takes out her cell phone and, without even asking, snaps a photo of him. And that’s when he snaps, that’s when everything goes downhill.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Alvin snatches the woman’s phone, a bit too aggressively, from her hand, resulting in her screaming out in chock. “You can’t just photograph whatever the fuck you want!” He throws it down on the ground and stomps on it with his foot until the display is completely wrecked. The woman and her husband look on with great concern and pity, which only pisses him off even more.

“Oh dear, Mr. Wayne- ” But the lady can’t finish that sentence before a loud murmur erupts among all the other passengers at the mentioning of _that name_. More and more people begins to look in his direction now, some even moving over with their nosy faces and phones up in the air. They are more than likely photographing his every move, or worse, recording. 

“Look, lady, I don’t know who you think I am but please, leave me alone.” Alvin is feeling more and more cornered and nauseous in this great hall. He almost sighs out in relief when the guards arrive, instantly feeling more calm and secure. At least, so he thought initially.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to calm down and come with me.” The guard informs him while taking Alvin’s bag away from him and hands them over to one of the airport personnel.

“Wait… What? Why?”  Alvin shakes his head and tries to reach for his bags, which only seems to anger the guard further. The guard steps in front of Alvin and grabs him by his right arm and pulls him along while motioning for his colleagues to move on along as well.

“Don’t make this any more difficult for yourself. Come along now.”

Alvin knows resistance is meaningless, especially right now, so he reluctantly follows the guard and his two colleagues down the lines. While they pass by the other passengers, Alvin repeatedly feels hundreds of blinding, flashing lights burning his eye. They are marking him, memorizing him for eternity with this alleged name and this place. In a minute or so it will be all over the Internet, and he’ll be immortalized as someone named Timothy.

He just hopes for his own sake that this Timothy isn’t famous for making a sex tape.

~*~

 **** _JASON  
_**Song:** _1-800-273-8255_ – Logic, Alessia Cara, Khalid  
**Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey  
**Time:** 03:48 AM

It’s towards the end of their joint patrol night that Red Hood hears Nightwing’s annoyed voice patch through into his ear transmitter, asking all of them to join him as soon as possible over by the border to China Town. Normally, a request like that would be followed up with several minutes of bickering and complaining between some of the Bats, but not tonight. It’s been eerily quiet on their joint frequency for months and Jason wonders if anyone is even listening anymore.

Jason is pretty sure he knows what Dick wants to discuss. China Town, Tim’s old patrolling district. Dick, Jason and Stephanie has been taking turns keeping an eye on the district, but it’s no easy task to keep it up to the same standards when you’re one man down. Tim had done a lot of hard work over there to make sure that old as well as new cartel rings and mob organizations never felt safe enough to root themselves. That ambition had faltered altogether after his last breath was drawn. Nowadays China Town was a downright mess and all of Tim’s hard work and efforts to reclaim the streets had collapsed completely. It bothered them all gravely, especially Dick. Hence, this meeting.

When Red Hood arrives to Nightwing’s coordinates he comes face to face with Robin, looking just as defiant and stubborn as always. He is standing on the opposite end of the rooftop with his arms crossed over his chest, looking down towards the city streets. Red Hood sits down on the ledge and remains on his end of the rooftop and Robin on his, neither of them making any attempt at acknowledging the other’s presence or asking how their respective patrol has gone.

Everything is quiet and calm for another five minutes before Nightwing arrives from the east, all out of breath and with a slight limp to his left leg. Robin immediately heads over to Nightwing and points out the obvious, that Nightwing has been _reckless and sloppy again_ and that _Batman won’t be pleased to hear about this_. And of course, Batman just has to make a grand entrance just when Nightwing asks Robin not to tell Batman a word about this.

“You’re hurt.” Batman states matter-of-factly, looking sternly at Nightwing.

“It’s nothing, this will be fine tomorrow.” Nightwing answers and looks over towards Red Hood. “I’m glad you could join us. Shall we?” Nightwing motions with his hand for Red Hood to come over and join the rest of the Bats. Red Hood considers it, but decides not to when he hears Nightwing bring up their latest ventures into China Town. _So predictable, Dick_ , Jason thinks to himself as he looks their way, listening uninterested.

“China Town’s been spiraling way out of control lately, just this week alone we’ve had three serious incidents with newly established gangs. These guys are rough and not afraid to use lethal means to meet their ends, but what worries me the most is how _young_ they are. These guys are kids!” When nobody says anything in response, Dick continues. “Someone needs to patrol here. Daily. This rotating patrol schedule is not working, especially since there is little to no communication in-between us on what’s going down.”

“Just spill the plan, Nightwing.” Robin says nonchalantly while directing all his focus towards his phone. He’s playing _Battle Cats,_ and considering all the growls and frowns upon his face, he’s probably losing this round.

Nightwing takes a deep intake of breath, as if preparing himself to drop a bomb upon the rest. When he exhales he almost rambles it out so fast that its barely audible. “I suggest that Red Hood takes over China Town.”

“What? Are you shitting me right now?” Red Hood gets up from his spot and heads on over with long, fast, determined strides. He knows he’ll come across as way too aggressive for their liking, but he just doesn’t care anymore. “I am here every frikkin Tuesday _and_ Thursday. I have my own parts of town to look after.” He stops right in front of Nightwing, who only shakes his head in disbelief at Red Hood’s sudden outburst. “Besides, China Town belongs to the Bats, not the Hood.”

“ ** _We’re a team_**.” Nightwing says through gritted teeth, and of course he makes sure to really emphasize the team part. “And working in a **_team_** requires compromise.”

“Well, you can take that team spirit of yours and shove it up your ass cause I’m not doing it. Not anymore.”

Before any of them can say anything else, Batman is interrupted by an in-coming call on his transmitter. As Batman turns around and retreats over to the edge of the rooftop all by himself, Robin takes out a wire from his pocket and connects it between his phone and his earpiece and proceeds to do something with his phone. Suddenly, they all hear Alfred’s calming voice coming from the speakers.

 **ALFRED:** _“Sir, Commissioner Jim Gordon says this matter is most urgent.”_

“Robin, no, you didn’t.” Nightwing almost feels like fainting on the spot, his eyes and mouth all wide agape in chock. “Who even taught you how to do this? It wasn’t Barbara, right?” He shakes his head in disbelief at Robin and tries to grab the phone from him, but to no avail. Robin only backs away and looks back at Nightwing in pure annoyance and maxes out the volume.

 **BRUCE:** _“Alright, patch him through, Alfred.”_

“I only perfected Drake’s prototype.” Robin says.

“Tim would never do that.” Nightwing says defiantly. Robin and Red Hood only looks at him like he’s the most naïve (or stupid) moron to ever exist, before both of them burst out in a joint laughter. They are suddenly interrupted by the commissioner’s coughs on the other side of the line, his voice sounding all rough and tired, like he’s just gotten out of bed.

 **JIM GORDON:** _“Hello? Mr. Wayne? I’m sorry to call you at this hour.”_

 **BRUCE:** _“Good evening, commissioner. What can I do for you?”_

Bruce voice sounds all smooth and relaxed, which is really weird considering he is currently in the Batsuit on a rooftop in China Town in the middle of the night.

 **JIM GORDON:** “ _Are you sitting down?”_ Gordon asks, his voice having this tone of grave seriousness to it.

 **BRUCE:** _“What is it, Gordon?”_

 **JIM GORDON:** _“Well, I just got this cryptic call from our colleagues in New York. Apparently the Department of State wants to get in touch with you. When I called them they were very secretive and uptight about the matter, but they asked me to leave for New York immediately and bring you along with me.”_

 **BRUCE:** _“Why? What aren’t you telling me, Gordon?”_

 **JIM GORDON:** _ **“** They have taken this young man into temporary custody from JFK. He entered the country around an hour ago and they have been questioning him since. I am sure it’s all just a hoax or a grave misunderstanding, but I thought you should know before they call you.” _Gordon takes a deep breath _. “I don’t know how to properly tell you this so I am just gonna say it straight out... They think it’s Tim.”_

The eerie silence that follows that huge revelation is painful. Nightwing immediately looks away, runs both his hands through his hair in frustration and lets out a deep sigh. Robin doesn’t move an inch, he barely even blinks or breathes. As for Jason, he just wishes the world would stop fucking around with him for once. The mentioning of Tim’s name felt like a stab to his heart, and the silence that follows like the same knife twisting and turning, deep within the wound. 

Bruce doesn’t say another word until Commissioner Gordon coughs again, waking them all out their trance-like state. Bruce clears his throat and his voice sounds more stern and collected this time around when he talks.

 **BRUCE:** _“When are you leaving? Alfred and I will come pick you up.”_

 **JIM GORDON: “** _In 20 minutes. Are you sure you’re up for this, Mr. Wayne?”_

 **BRUCE:** _“See you soon, Gordon.”_

None of the Bats utter a word when Batman turns towards them. Because really, what could anyone really say at a moment like this? They all look and feel so numb, inside and out. Batman walks over to them and puts a hand on Robin’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly.

“Robin, return to the Batcave and await further instructions. I will contact you once we’re on the road.” Batman orders and Robin simply nods in response. Batman looks up towards Nightwing and Red Hood, but doesn’t say a thing. Instead they just look at each other with a blend of concern, confusion and frustration. Batman turns and leaves in the direction he had arrived, then he drops down from the rooftop and disappears swiftly into the night. Robin puts his phone away and immediately heads off in the direction of the Batcave, not saying a word as he runs away.

-*-

 **** _JASON_  
Song: _Never Forget You_ – Zara Larsson, MNEK  
**Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey  
**Time:** 04:03 AM

Nightwing and Red Hood stand in complete silence, both of them waiting for the other to move or say something. Finally, Red Hood has to break the rising tension between them because the silence is suffocating him.

“Fuck this shit, you can’t seriously think this is for real?” Red Hood is practically growling under the hood. Nightwing looks at him with pity _, fucking pity_ , in his eyes.

“If Batman thinks it’s worth looking into, then we should give it a shot and support his decision.”

“You got to be kidding me! This is a hoax, a scam.” Red Hood is yelling. He doesn’t mean to, not really, but he can’t help it. He’s practically boiling with anger and frustration on the inside. “For once, it seems like I am the sane one because you are actually standing here, telling me this might be real.”

“But _you_ came back, Jason.”

The comment truly stings because Red Hood almost flinches away. The bare thought of Tim going through anything even remotely close to Jason’s past disturbs him deeply. And to have Dick standing here and comparing this new situation with Jason’s own struggles – it almost makes him want to hurl a hard fist Dick’s way.

“Oh, yeah, because those were some good, old days, weren’t they?” Red Hood feels his body shaking, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just look at me, I’m alive and kicking, so it must have worked, right? It’s not like it haunts me every fucking night.”

“I didn’t mean to trivialize-”

“But you did.” Red Hood cuts him off abruptly. “You all do.”

Nightwing crosses his arms across his chest and looks at Red Hood with an unsympathetic expression. “You’re not exactly letting anyone in under that thick skin of yours. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to reach out to you, but you’d rather sulk over by a grave.”

At first Red Hood doesn’t say a single word. He simply stares at Nightwing, a bit chocked he’d sink that low. He clutches his fists and hears how his voice almost growls when he speaks up.

“That’s none of your fucking business, Dick.”

“Look, I’m not stupid, Jason. I know it was you who arranged Tim’s grave, and I know you go there on a daily basis.” Nightwing takes a step forward and tries to reach for Red Hood’s arm, but Red Hood is so not in the mood for Dick’s brotherly embrace right now. He is pissed. Instead, he pushes Nightwing’s arm away a bit too roughly and Nightwing flinches a little and takes a step back.

“Jason, I know you’re hurting. Please-” But before Nightwing can say another word, Red Hood sprints away and jumps off the rooftop, leaving Nightwing and his concerns behind as the night slowly turns into dawn.

~*~

When Red Hood reaches the cemetery he is practically out of breath. His anger got the better of him once again tonight, but Dick could be such a _dick s_ ometimes. It was not his business nor his place to comment on whatever Jason did or did not do. Ever since Tim died Jason had done nothing but back Dick up, helping him out with the patrolling of China Town twice (twice!) a week and even assisting him in cleaning out all of Tim’s stuff from his old apartment. He should be grateful that Jason and the Red Hood even bothered at all with Dick’s business, he could just as easily have bailed on all of them.

But Tim wouldn’t have wanted that _._

Red Hood takes a deep breath and counts to ten before opening his eyes again. He proceeds to remove his helmet and puts away the guns, temporarily hiding it all in a corner on top of the roof before dropping down to the ground below. He takes a look around before immediately heading over to Tim’s grave.

17 months has already passed and yet each step he takes still feel so damn hard, like quick sand pulling him in. It is a daily struggle to come here and face this grave he’s made for Tim. He’s still pissed at Bruce for not giving Tim a proper grave and gravestone, and he’s not exactly alone in feeling that way. Stephanie hasn’t talked to Bruce in six months, Cassandra is out of the country and even the demon spawn has been moodier than usual. It’s rather obvious that Bruce blames himself for Tim’s fate. Just the same way Bruce once had blamed himself for Jason. But back then a certain someone had had Batman’s and Bruce’s backs. A certain someone who’s grave Jason now kneels down in front of while gently brushing away some dirt from the wooden cross.

“Hey, Timbo. I’m sorry I had to leave earlier…” Jason says, rearranging the flowers laying in front of the grave in the same way he did every night he came here. It has to be perfect, the way the flowers are supposed to lay over the grave. He knows Tim would’ve scolded him otherwise, telling him the importance of aesthetics to please the eye. And normally Jason would have responded by not giving a fuck or by saying something mean and toss the flowers aside.

It’s the way it could have been, how it should have been.

“But I am here now.”

 __  
_I will never forget you_  
And you’ll always be by my side 'til the day I die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> /Smutfika
> 
> https://smutfika.tumblr.com/


	3. The Double

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: From here on and forward there will several scenes with sexual explicit content, so for those of you who don’t want to read smut - stop reading now. 
> 
> Thanks for the great response on the last chapter! Your comments make me incredibly happy. I hope you will enjoy the third chapter and where the story is headed. 
> 
> As always, a big thank you to Champagneleftie for being the best friend in the whole world and a great beta. Your help is absolutely priceless.
> 
> I also want to give a lot of credit and thanks to my friend BlueFlameBird. Thanks for inspiring me and supporting this fanfic. <3
> 
> Here is the link to the Spotify Playlist for chapter 3:  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/chowayu/playlist/3Qox1ory1lBdVoTE4uW4KQ
> 
> Playlist for chapter 3:  
> Ivory – MOVEMENT  
> Somebody That I Used to Know (Miami Nights 1984 Remix) – Gotye, Kimbra  
> Let You Down – NF  
> Tuesday (feat. Danelle Sandoval ) – Burak Yeter, Danelle Sandoval  
> With Every Heartbeat - Robyn  
> There For You – Martin Garrix, Troye Sivan  
> Sail - AWOLNATION

**~*~**

 

 **[05:18 A.D.:** **PHOTO:** _Logo of the U.S Department of State on a brick wall.  
_**_Caption_ ** **:** _Ben, this isn’t the Plaza._ Joke aside, please get someone over here **. /** Alvin **]**

 **[05:20 HR-Ben:** Omg. What have you done now, Draper? **]**

 **[05:21 A.D.:** They took me in because of my good looks **.]**

 **[05:22 A.D.:** I’m not even kidding right now. **]**

 **[05:28: HR-Ben:** Eva’s informed.  We’re sending over someone right now **.]**

 **[05:29 A.D.:** Thnx. **]**

 **[05:29 A.D.:** Btw, ask them to bring coffee **.]**

 **[05:31 A.D.:** And Starbucks is not an option **.]**

 

~*~

 **_TIM/ALVIN_  
****Song:** _Ivory - MOVEMENT_  
**Location** : U.S. Department of State, New York City  
**Time** : 05:33 AM

Alvin closes the bathroom door behind him and leans back against the hardwood frame. He slowly drops to the floor and looks up at the ceiling, or anywhere really that isn’t his phone. They took away his meds earlier and still refuses to give them back. _They are prescribed_ , he’d told them, but did they listen? Of course not, so here he is, hiding in a bathroom while denying the fact that he’s slowly succumbing to his migraines. Alvin clenches both of his fists, shaking in frustration. He wants to scream but knows that it will only draw more attention to him and raise more questions.

He’s clenching his iPhone in the sweaty palm of his trembling left hand, clinging onto it desperately. Its display is still lit up with the face of _Timothy Wayne_ staring back at him. It takes everything Alvin’s got not to faint or throw up right now. He’s seen this face before. It has followed him around at home in the bathroom mirror, to work on the subway’s platform doors, and in the dressing rooms at H&M. At first it had been just that, a simple reflection.

But then everything changed. He began noticing the face around town and at work a few months ago, this face of a man who looks exactly like him. But not just “exactly.” They are identical. Yet every time Alvin has tried to go near the other man, to approach him physically and see him up close, the man has always turned away and melted into the shadows.

There’s a sudden knock on the bathroom door. It startles him.

“Just a second!”

Alvin gets up and heads over to the bathroom sink, turns on the faucet and stares at the running water. He runs his face under the flow of cold water at the sink. He takes small sips. His migraine is pulsating intensely in his head, only getting worse by each passing minute. Which it shouldn’t do, not yet. He took his meds before boarding in Keflavik, so normally he should be fine. But instead he’s growing more agitated and frustrated by the second. Add to that the fact that he hasn’t eaten in a whole day, all he’s had is coffee and wine. What a perfect fucked up cocktail to mess with his mind.

There is a second knock on the door.

“I said, just a second!”

Alvin looks into the bathroom mirror before him. There’s a thin crack there, straight across the frame. It makes his face look as if it’s cut in half. He washes his hands in the cold water but doesn’t dry them off afterwards. Instead he wipes them on the back of his neck and on his jaw, trying to cool himself down.

There’s a third knock on the door, this time it is more impatient and hard.

“I said-” Alvin practically yells as he turns off the faucet and looks over towards the door.

He kind of knows that it’s going to be _him_ before he even turns around. It’s the eerie feeling in the room, the silence from the outside and the dimly lit, flickering lights. For when Alvin turns to face the door, he comes face to face with the Double.

The Double still looks exactly the same, and yet not really. There is something deeply unsettling about him in the way that he comes across as so soft and fragile, yet feels so dangerous in the way his eyes take in the room and finally settles for Alvin. The Double inspects him from top to toe, teasing Alvin with a knowing smile. Alvin looks back at him, attracted and threatened.

“I know you’re not real.” Alvin murmurs and shakes his head. He turns on the faucet again and tries to concentrate on the running water. “Fuck, I need my meds. Everything will be fine once I have my meds.” He repeats the words to himself almost like a mantra.

The Double takes a step forward and comes up next to Alvin. At first, he just looks at him, studies his every move as if he’s an animal. The Double tilts his head to the left and gently caresses Alvin’s cheek with slim fingers before he leans in and whispers into Alvin’s ear,

**_“Relax. Don’t fight this.”_ **

Alvin immediately steps back from the sink, water dripping from his fingers. The Double mirrors his movements perfectly and moves after him until Alvin comes to a stop in front of a stall. Alvin shuts his eyes tightly. Maybe he’ll go away if he ignores him long enough?

There’s a sudden, discreet knock on the bathroom door. A woman’s voice comes through from the other side.

“Sir, are you finished? We need to get back.”

When Alvin opens his eyes again the Double is still present and right next to Alvin. He is so close in fact that Alvin should be able to smell him or feel his breath on his skin, but there is nothing of either. The Double lingers a finger over Alvin’s lips, shushing him when Alvin tries to respond to the woman on the other side of the door.

“What do you want?” Alvin growls.

The Double opens up his left hand and in the middle of his palm lies a pair of pills. He looks intensely at Alvin, claiming his attention with his eyes. The Double opens his mouth and a friendly, sensual voice speaks in gentle whispers,  

**_“One for me…”_ **

The Double takes one of the pills and puts it on his own tongue. He then picks up the other pill between his fingertips and holds it up in front of Alvin, as if waiting for Alvin to open his mouth. For some reason, as if he’s unable to control his own actions, he obediently does so.

**_“And one for you.”_ **

The Double puts the pill on Alvin’s tongue and closes his jaw with his fingertips, and then it feels like time comes to a sudden stop. The Double leans in slowly and connects their mouths, their lips touching softly like a feather. The kiss deepens and the Double forces his tongue into Alvin’s mouth. Alvin responds by closing his eyes. He sighs contently and leans into it, swallowing the pill.

Suddenly the door bursts open and the agent barges in. Alvin opens his eyes, all flustered and startled while trying his best to hide his rather evident arousal. His Double is all but gone. And with him, the migraine.

~*~

 **_TIM/ALVIN_  
****Song:** _Somebody That I Used to Know (Miami Nights 1984 Remix)_ – Gotye, Kimbra  
**Location** : U.S. Department of State, New York City  
**Time** : 06:02 - 06:53 AM

The headquarters of the State Department is a building with many secrets and intense security. Alvin makes sure to keep count on the number of visible security cameras he can spot as they head over to the interrogation room. The officer escorting him is a woman in her early thirties. Whenever Alvin asks her questions, like whether or not the walls are bomb proof or if there are any secret rooms downstairs with mass surveillance teams, she rolls her eyes at him and chuckles.

From around the corner, two new faces emerge and join them, with one of them being Ms. Linda Fergusson, the operative officer in charge and the one responsible for holding Alvin here. Linda speaks in an agitated voice to the younger man next to her.

“Take that damn video down right now.” Linda says while fumbling around on her phone, looking rather irritated with brows furrowed as she skims through her e-mail.

“It's too late, ma’am. More than a 100,000 people have already watched it.” The younger man answers, doing his best to keep up with Linda’s intense tempo. Alvin shakes his head in disbelief. A 100,000 people have already seen an amateur video of him raging at an old lady at the airport? Why would people even watch that?

“Nasir, I don't care. Just do it. Now.”

They suddenly come to a halt outside the room where they are to have their meeting. Outside the door two men in neat suits are waiting for them. The taller and older of the two takes a confident step forward  towards Alvin.

“Mr. Draper, I’m William Franzén, I am in-house counsel for GQ. This is my junior associate, Chris Palmer.” William and Alvin shake hands. It’s a firm, steadfast and determined handshake. William maintains eye contact throughout the whole shake before he steps aside and allows Chris to shake hands as well. It’s not as strong nor as confident as William’s, far from it.

Both men are wearing tailored suits with collared, long-sleeved white dress shirts underneath. The older man is wearing all dark gray while the younger one is in navy. Their suits are neat, clean, pressed and wrinkle-free, just the way GQ likes their front page models. To complement the suits, they wear Italian, hand-made, leather dress shoes with dark socks. The shoes are newly polished and spot-free. They have short, conservative hairstyles but the smaller man is growing out a neatly, groomed beard, probably in an attempt to make himself look older than he really is. Judging by their fashion sense alone, Alvin concludes that GQ has brought in their finest lawyers – at least in terms of fashion sense.

Chris turns around and picks up two large, white and green coffee cups and hands one over to Alvin and the other to William. _Of course it’s Starbucks_.

Alvin takes out his phone and types a quick message and press send.

 **[06:11 A.D:** Fuck you, Ben. You had one job **.]**

Alvin studies his two lawyers when they turn around to greet Linda and Nasir. Linda reminds Alvin of a younger version of Eva. Her features are both thin and sharp with a narrow, long mouth and two distinct dimples on each side. Alvin’s first impression of Linda is that she is very direct and serious, maybe even a bit cold, with that steel gaze and those tense shoulders of hers. Nasir is the opposite, he seems very charming and carefree, especially with those fine laugh lines around his eyes which only make him come across as even more warm and sympathetic.

Linda suddenly gets an incoming call and she heads off in the opposite direction, talking to someone on her phone in an angry voice. Alvin can barely make out what she says, the only thing he hears before she’s out of reach is “Who the fuck authorized this?”

Alvin’s phone vibrates. He picks it up and takes a quick look. It’s Ben.

 **[06:13 HR-Ben:** Enjoy the Frappuccino, Draper **.]**

 **[06:14 HR-Ben:** It has cinnamon in it **.]**

William motions for Alvin to follow him into the room next door. The room is empty and void of color and furniture except for a long, rectangular, conference table made in mahogany and six chairs. They sit down next to each other on the right side of the table. Alvin places himself in the middle with William to his right and Chris on his left.

William immediately proceeds with unpacking his leather briefcase. He is completely focused as he moves, obsessed with doing everything correctly as he creates extremely well-organized, neat piles of paperwork in front of them. William looks particularly smug and pleased with himself when he finally sits down and leans back in his chair, taking small sips of his coffee while waiting for the others to get ready.  

“You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Draper. I’ll get you out of here in five minutes.” William says, his voice sounding extremely over-confident. Alvin eyes him skeptically.

“What’s all the paperwork for then?”

“Intimidation tactic.” Chris chirps in, rearranging the piles so they are all completely aligned in a straight line.

William turns around in his chair to face Alvin. He motions for Alvin to lean in so they can speak more privately between only four eyes. Alvin leans in and is immediately hit by the intense cologne William is wearing. _Versace, Eros_.

“As your lawyer I feel I should ask you so we’re both in the clear here. Between just you and me, are you or are you not Timothy Wayne?” William whispers.

“Oh my god.” Alvin groans out and shakes his head in frustration. He lowers his head to his chest and runs a hand through his hair, feeling utterly defeated. Not even his lawyer believes him.

“This is important. I need to know how to approach this.”

The door suddenly clangs open and throws William’s focus off completely as Linda marches into the room, eyes looking straight forward. Two men are following behind her, Alvin eyes them both with suspicion. Nasir stands up from his seat and heads over to the two men while Linda proceeds to sit down in the middle chair, straight opposite Alvin.

“Mr. Wayne, thank you for joining us.” Nasir says politely and extends a hand to one of the two men. Alvin immediately looks away when he hears the name. The commissioner and Bruce Wayne sits down on each side of Linda.

Linda rises up from her seat on the left side of the eloquent hardwood table and adjusts her maroon, pencil skirt before looking at Alvin with great intensity. Slightly panicked and intimidated by the woman, Alvin grabs William by his fancy suit rather aggressively and pulls him in close as he practically growls at his lawyer through gritted teeth.

“You better get me the fuck out of here now or I’ll spill Frappuccino all over your Gabbana.”

~*~

“Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea?” Nasir asks before taking a sip of his water. Both Commissioner Gordon and Bruce Wayne decline politely. Meanwhile, William leans backwards behind Alvin and looks towards Chris, and says in a subtle, low voice,

“I wonder who Mr. Gotham bribed to get his way in here.  Agent Sheridan? Sterling?”

“As in _Senator_ Sterling? Really, William, there’s no way-” Chris hisses, but is cut off by William who motions for both of them to pay attention forward again as Bruce Wayne looks across the table at the three of them.

Alvin sneaks a  peak at Bruce Wayne, slightly curious. Bruce acknowledges his presence with a small nod and a kind smile. Alvin immediately looks away and takes an involuntarily sip of his disgusting Frappuccino. It’s hot and sweet self-hate packaged in an ugly, white Starbucks cup. Alvin is nervous, he knows exactly what he is up against here - a philanthropist, business magnate and industrialist, one of the richest and most successful men in the US. “ _They’ve got nothing on you.”_ William had said earlier, trying to calm him down. But if they wants to keep him, Alvin is sure they will find a way to do so - with any means necessary.

Ms. Fergusson proceeds to explain to their guests their previous talks with Mr. Draper. Alvin really dislikes how they talk about him in third person while he’s still in the room, and especially how she refers to him as “ _uncooperative and unresponsive_ ”. _Well, Linda, you would probably act the same had you been forcefully removed from an airport in front of hundreds of other passengers,_ Alvin thinks quietly to himself and leans back restlessly in his chair.

When it’s their turn, William stands up slowly from his chair and adjusts his tie. He takes a deep breath before proceeding with his opening statement.

“William Franzén, I'm in house rep for GQ and I represent Mr. Draper. I will speak on behalf of our magazine when I say that it’s a disgrace how poorly you've treated my client-"

“He’s been treated poorly?” Bruce cuts off William and looks with stern eyes towards Linda who looks at her two colleagues.  

“No, we’ve done no such thing. All we did was confiscate his bags because he brought drugs with him into the country.”

And there it begins. The lies.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is medicine, Linda.” William counters, “My client’s _prescribed medicine_ which he needs for his treatment, which you confiscated without permission.”

“What medicine?” Bruce cuts off abruptly. Alvin tenses up when he sees hears the grave seriousness in Bruce’s voice. _Why? Why that voice?_ Bruce turns to Alvin directly and looks at him with some concern. “Why are you eating medicine?”

Alvin shoots William a questioning look and in return William only shakes his head. So Alvin keeps quiet and takes a big sip of his coffee. It’s disgusting.

“We don't need to go into detail about my client’s medical history, Mr. Wayne. If we move on…" William pauses for effect, “my client, who has done nothing wrong, is being held here against his will, falsely accused of what exactly? You base everything on speculations, you have no solid ground for which you’re keeping him here, it is all made up excuses. You will release my client with immediate effect or-”

“Alvin,” Bruce rises up from his chair. He gets Alvin’s attention immediately. “Can we talk in private? Alone?”

Linda and Nasir turn awkwardly in their chairs while Gordon coughs a little. William rolls his eyes in Alvin direction, clearly indicating his disapproval of the suggestion. Alvin doesn’t know what to say or do. Bruce just looks at him, almost pleading, his eyes dilating as he patiently awaits Alvin’s answer.

“I can’t approve of this request.” Linda begins. “It would be a clear violation of -”

“It’s fine.” Alvin interrupts abruptly. Everyone looks at him in surprise. Alvin puts down his Starbucks cup in front of him, leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Let’s talk, Mr. Wayne.”

~*~

 **_TIM/ALVIN_  
****Song:** _Let You Down_ – NF  
**Location** : U.S. Department of State, New York City  
**Time** : 06:55 AM

Within a few minutes the room is cleared of people except for Alvin and Bruce. They sit on opposite ends of the table, facing each other straight on. Both are quiet, patiently and strategically awaiting the other to make the first move. It is Alvin who finally breaks the silence. He leans down on his arms and has this puzzled, curious expression on his face.

“So, what do you want from me, Mr. Wayne?”

Beyond that luxurious Italian suit and perfectly clean shaven face, the mighty Bruce Wayne is slowly cracking, breaking. He has these distinctive wrinkles in his face, those kind of wrinkles you develop from stress and hard work. While Mr. Wayne has managed to cover most of them up with a thin layer of makeup, Alvin can still see the dark circles and worry wrinkles dawning all over his features.

“I lost someone. Someone I hold very dear.” Bruce says, sounding very weak and exposed. Almost human. It’s difficult to picture celebrities and famous people as humans when they are treated as deities by the commons. But even someone as mighty, successful and prosperous as Bruce Wayne can hurt _. Deep down, we all bleed, even Bruce Wayne_ , Alvin concludes to himself.

“I’m aware,” Alvin whispers, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was my fault, you know. I let you… I let _him_ down.”

Alvin doesn’t want to, but can’t help feel pity in his heart when Bruce glances his way, his words still lingering in the air. Alvin immediately looks away as if trying to keep some distance between them while ignoring the “you” in Bruce’s wording.

“No, Mr. Wayne. Look, you can't protect your children forever. They grow up, shit happens.”

“It shouldn’t have.” Bruce stands up from his chair and slowly heads over to Alvin’s side of the table. “I never got to tell him how proud I was of him. What a fantastic young man he had grown into.”

“I'm sorry for your loss, I truly am, but,” Alvin feels his chest tighten and his heartbeat quicken when Bruce Wayne stands in front of him. He gets goosebumps all over his skin, sweat building up in his palms. “I’m not Tim. I’m not your son.”

Bruce runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up. A look of defeat and sorrow spreads across his handsome face. He then straightens his posture and it’s like he transforms right in front of Alvin’s eyes, from worried, heartbroken father to calm and collected businessman on a mission.

“What do you work with?”

The sudden change in topics startles Alvin, but he simply shrugs it off and tries to adjust himself to the new mood.

“I’m a photographer.”

“Freelance?”

“Normally, yes, but I am currently employed at GQ.”

“To be paid to do what you love. Ain't that the dream?” Bruce sits down on the edge of the table and glances Alvin’s way. Suddenly Alvin feels like he’s being examined, studied like a test subject in a cage. It unsettles him deeply.

“I guess so. But right now, I feel like a fucking prisoner.”

“You are not a prisoner. You are just being protected.” Bruce says, his voice turning stern and grave. It’s growing further and further away from his previous soft approach, and Alvin would normally joke about this feeling like a bad cop/good cop situation but something tells him he really shouldn’t be joking around right now.

“I can look after myself, thanks.”

“No, you can’t. You don’t understand, you don’t even remember-”

“There is _nothing_ to remember here!” Alvin growls and motions between the two of them. He gets up from his seat and shakes his head in annoyance, evidently very irritated as he throws Bruce a shady look. Alvin feels the adrenaline burn through his veins like fire and he knows he must get out of here before he says or does anything reckless.

“I’ll make you a deal, Mr. Wayne. I'll stay quiet about this meeting. I will not speak of this to anyone. Just…” Alvin pushes back his chair and turns to leave, “don’t come after me again.”

Bruce doesn’t answer him. Instead he hangs his head low and looks away from Alvin as he exits the room and leaves Bruce alone. Alvin absolutely loathes himself for the feelings that are building up in his chest, these feelings of disappointment, of letting Bruce down. When he hurries out he doesn’t stop once in his steps to look back to see firsthand how the mighty can fall, how a man who had it all just lost it all.

 _All these voices in my head get loud_ _  
_ _I wish that I could shut them out_  
I'm sorry that I let you down.

 

~*~

 **_TIM/ALVIN_  
****Song:** Tuesday (feat. Danelle Sandoval ) – Burak Yeter, Danelle Sandoval  
**Location:** Le Cou Cou, New York City  
**Time** : 17:10 PM

Alvin wants little else than to crash into his hotel bed, and yet here he is, in the backseat of a taxi heading downtown with William and Chris. They are headed to _Le Cou Cou,_ one of New York’s best French restaurants. Alvin is sitting in the back together with William, who currently is talking on his phone with his wife. Judging by William’s slightly annoyed frown and his harsh comments, the conversation is quickly heading south. As soon as William hangs up on his wife, he’s back to his Prince Charming demeanor. William removes his wedding band discreetly from his ring finger and puts it away in his jacket’s inner pocket. He knows Alvin sees it and winks at him.

Upon their arrival, Chris immediately heads over to the small, yet stylish, service bar where two young women are enjoying themselves with small-talk while waiting to be seated. The indoor décor of the restaurant is rustic yet elegant. The place consists of two spacious rooms, both painted in crème white walls with dimly lit pewter-steel chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. It really is an Instagram-friendly place, so it is no surprise that guests are photographing even the tiniest of details, such as the engravings on their napkins.

While Chris tries his best to get the women’s numbers, William and Alvin are seated right next to one of the huge windows overlooking the busy city streets. Outside their window they can see the restaurant’s red neon sign, its warmth giving the place a touch of nostalgia.

“While I don’t agree with his methods, I have to give the man some credit. You obviously have the Tim-Wayne-look spot on.” William jokingly says as he sits down opposite Alvin. He mutes his phone and puts it away, ignoring the recent text message from his wife. “Just put on a suit and _bam!_ you’re a Wayne.”

“No, I think I’ll pass.” Alvin answers flatly and picks up the menu. Great. It’s in French. Well then, should he pick the _Canard et cerises_ or the _Joues de boeuf en gelée au foie gras_ ? Maybe he’ll have _Crépinette de volaille aux foie gras et fruits_ , or a _Côte d’agneau grillé, collier braisée à la tomate_? At least the last option seems to have a tomato in it. He can eat that.  

“Consider the suit at least. It’d be a good look on you. Now, remove the hoodie.”

“What’s wrong with my hoodie?”

“For starters, you can’t wear a hoodie to a fine restaurant like this. It’s rude. Unless of course, you’re Kanye West. But you’re not, so take off the hoodie.”

“Well, seeing how I’d rather be Kanye West than Timothy Wayne, I’ll keep the hoodie on.” Alvin answers smugly and picks up his phone, trying to ignore William if only for a moment. He has gotten nine new messages since he last checked his phone. Five of them are from Eva, asking how everything is going and informing him that she’s rescheduled his appointment in the morning to later in the afternoon. That woman is a true savior, Alvin concludes and moves on with the rest of his texts. One text is from Tina, it’s a group photo of the three of them from last night. Then there are two from Ben, of course. Alvin just scrolls past them, he’s definitely not in the mood for Ben right now, especially since he still can taste the Starbucks coffee in his mouth. The final text is his most recent and it’s from an unknown number. Alvin opens it.

 **[16:32** **Unknown Number:** Alvin, I apologize for my behavior earlier. I sincerely hope you can accept my apology one day. Good luck with your career in photography. /Bruce **]**

 _So much for backing off_ , Alvin thinks to himself. Alvin shuts off his phone and puts it down on the table, and of course William has taken the liberty of ordering food and drinks while Alvin was preoccupied with his phone. William is sipping on his glass of red wine, looking so damn smug when he hands over a glass of coke to Alvin.

“Cheers, we did good today.”

Alvin shakes his head and leans forward, and boldly grabs William’s wine glass from his grasp.

“I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t do that.”

Alvin just flips him off and downs the wine in one go. He hands the glass back to William, looking way more calm and content. Just when William is about to lecture him, Chris decides to join them again. He is beaming from head to toe, like a child on Christmas Day.

“I got it.”

“What?”

“Her number.” Chris grins. “Can you believe it? Soon I’ll be just as famous and lucky as this guy right here.” Chris pats William on the back and his smile is so pure, so genuine. William nods his head, trying to look chill but comes across as a bit sad as Chris sits down next him.

“So have you guys ordered yet?”

“William did.” Alvin says, sipping on his coke. “For all of us.”

“You will thank me later. I know for a fact that the halibut here is absolutely amazing.” William says while the sommelier arrives to their table with another bottle of wine. William hogs it in an instant. Alvin leans back and snickers at William’s behavior, while he secretly wishes he could have more wine. That is, however, highly unlikely to happen after that stunt he pulled.

After an absolutely fantastic main course, the waiter arrives with their very photogenic desserts. Three plates with Mousse au chocolat, a cloudlike mousse dessert made with the finest _Valrhona_ chocolates and finished off with unsweetened, bitter chocolate shavings. William politely asks for the check and the waiter returns shortly afterwards, the check discreetly hidden in an envelope.

“Here is your check, sir.”

William opens the envelope and eyes the receipt thoroughly. Alvin gets a quick glance at it. $450, excluding tips. Before Alvin even gets a chance to split the total and count how much he’ll owe, William gives the waiter his MasterCard rather nonchalantly and says,

“It’s all on me.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll be right back.”

Alvin twists a bit uncomfortably in his chair. He really dislikes being treated to things, especially expensive dinners like this one. He prefers to be the one who treats others, not the other way around. At the same time, it is rather obvious that William is not the kind of person who will accept anything else than a “thank you” for this gesture of his.

The waiter returns with William’s MasterCard and thanks him personally for dining with them tonight, before she hurries over to her colleagues by the main entrance.

When Alvin gets up and puts on his jacket he sees in the corner of his eye how there is a bit of a commotion over by the entrance to the restaurant. William and Chris look over as well and both simply shrug and wave it off like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. William pulls out his chair and gets up and Chris follows suit, and the three of them proceed to maneuver through the busy restaurant.

“I bet it's some A-lister.” Chris says flatly to William, who only nods in reply.

As soon as they reach the exit, Alvin looks up and he comes face to face with none other than Bruce Wayne. At first, Alvin thinks that the man must have planned this all along, but then he sees how earnestly surprised Bruce looks when their eyes meet across the hall.

The staff has gathered around Bruce like starving vultures, circling him patiently while asking him for a photograph or autograph, yet all Bruce has eyes for is Alvin. Alvin shies away in an instant and tries his best to hide amongst all the guests and personnel. He pulls up his hoodie over his head and draws it down to cover his face, exiting the restaurant as fast as he possibly can.

~*~

 **Song:** _With Every Heartbeat -_ Robyn

As soon as they exit the building, William bursts out laughing. The wine is clearly getting to his head. He wraps an arm around Chris and starts ranting about the girls Chris chatted with earlier. Alvin ignores them both as he tries to get them a cab, but it’s a busy evening and most cars just drive by, paying him little to no attention.

Suddenly, he feels a chilling breeze on the back of his neck and touches the exposed skin, the warmth from his hand blending nicely with the cold. Alvin looks over his shoulder to see what caused it, and that’s when he comes eye to eye with none other than the Double again.

The Double walks up right next to him and casually throws his right arm over Alvin’s shoulder. He leans in closely, his face inches away from Alvin’s as he whispers,

**_“Front page. 5-page interview.”_ **

Alvin pulls away from the Double and looks at him in surprise. The Double smiles fondly his way as he breathes in a few deep breaths of the crisp evening air, sighing contently as if it’s his very first breath of air.

**_“Bruce Wayne doesn’t give interviews easily, you know.”_ **

The Double looks at him sternly, his eyes dark and determined.

**_“Go for it.”_ **

Before Alvin can respond he’s interrupted by Chris, who is tugging on his jacket and informs him that William has passed out in the gutter. Alvin looks in the direction Chris is pointing and finds that William has collapsed a few meters away, sleeping like the drunk that he is on the pavement.

“We should probably try to get in contact with his wife.” Chris says and takes out his phone.

“Wait.” Alvin replies and looks in the direction of the restaurant entrance. “Wait…”

“Wait for what?”

“Damn. Take these.” Alvin practically throws off his bags and shoves them into Chris’s arms, who is so taken by surprise he almost stumbles backwards into the street. Alvin heads over to the restaurant entrance and pushes himself through the busy crowd outside.

Once he gets indoors he marches on with determination, totally ignoring the very pissed off  maître d' who runs up next to him and informs him that he must wait in line to be seated, just like everybody else. Alvin’s only response is to flip him off rudely and then push him aside. The maître d' looks on in disbelief before he leaves to call in security, which means Alvin will have about 2 minutes before a guard will throw him out of this place.

He hurries into the dining area and luckily enough for him, it is not a difficult task to find Bruce Wayne. He is sitting at the guest of honor table in the center of the room.

Alvin takes a deep breath to collect himself and heads on over. He comes to a halt in front of Bruce’s table and when their eyes finally meet, Alvin swears he sees pure bliss shining through in those wide billionaire-eyes.

“I agree to meet with you on one condition.” Alvin utters suddenly, his voice a bit off. Bruce leans back in his chair and puts down his glass of Riesling.

“Name it. Anything.”

“Let me interview you for our next issue.” Alvin takes another deep breath, his feet tapping impatiently on the floor. “And I want you on the front cover.”

Before Bruce can reply, the maître d' joins them with a guard in tow. The maître d' apologizes sincerely to Bruce while the guard grabs a firm hold of Alvin’s arm, ready to escort him out of the restaurant. Bruce gets up from his seat and heads on over to them and removes the guard’s hold of Alvin before turning to the maître d'. The look Bruce gives the maître d' is absolutely priceless and Alvin deeply regrets that he hasn’t got his camera with him. _If looks could kill_ , Alvin thinks to himself, slightly in awe of Bruce’s actions.

The maître d' motions for the guard to back off and the two of them retreat to the back of the restaurant. Bruce returns his attention to Alvin with a genuine smile on his lips, a glow of hopefulness lingering over his facial features as he reaches out his right hand for Alvin to shake.

“You've got yourself a deal.”

“Good.” Alvin practically stammers out, while mentally kicking himself for sounding so pathetic. He looks at Bruce’s open hand and reaches for it. When their fingers touch, Alvin feels a sudden charge, electric and tingling, run through his body. For a second all he sees is white and the smell wood burning.

_\---*---_

_It’s late in the evening and snow is falling beautifully outside. Bruce is sitting in the big, leather sofa by an open fire while Alfred picks up an empty whiskey glass on the nearby table. A young Tim, not a day older than 12, walks down the stairs and stops outside the living room. He is wearing his favorite pajamas, a book tucked tightly under his left arm. Bruce looks up when he hears Tim’s light footsteps and smiles his way._

_“Hello, Tim.”_

_“I had that nightmare again.”_

_Bruce puts away his book onto the nearby table and motions for Tim to join him._

_“You wanna talk about it?”_

_Tim enters the room and looks a little unsure, then slowly nods his head._

_“Well, come on in. Take a seat if you want.”_

_\---*---_

When Alvin opens his eyes again no time has passed at all. He is still in the restaurant, shaking hands with Bruce Wayne. His chest tightens and his pulse quickens as a wave of anxiety and nerves instantly builds up inside of him, threatening to tip him over. The images are still fresh and present before his eyes.

Alvin instantly breaks the physical contact between them. Instead, he takes out a business card in minimalistic style from his left pocket. His voice trembles a little when he hands it over to Bruce.

“Here's my number. Give me a call tomorrow so we can set a date for the interview.”

“I'll make sure to set it up. Can you come visit me in Gotham for the interview?”

“I guess, but…” Alvin stops mid-sentence and sighs, sounding troubled when he speaks up next. “Don’t you think this will be a problem?” Alvin points at his own face. “Not only for me, but for you and your family as well. It will raise a lot of attention and questions.”  

“You let me handle that.” Bruce says while returning to his seat by the table. Alvin nods his head and turns to leave. “Oh, and Alvin?”

Alvin stops in his tracks and looks back again. Bruce is smiling his way, a fondness and great pride shining all over his facial features. His face reminds Alvin of graduations and of proud fathers smiling next to their sons in candid photos.   

“Thank you.”

 

~*~

**THREE NIGHTS LATER**

_**JASON**  
_**Song:** _There For You –_ Martin Garrix, Troye Sivan  
**Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey  
**Time:** 05:10 AM

It’s past five am once the early sunrays creep forth and bathe the buildings in a pink-orange morning glow. The streets are covered in puddles of rainwater and an earthy smell of rainfall still lingers in the air since it has been pouring heavily all night. The rain is most likely the best explanation as to why the city streets are so void of people, except for your occasional stray dog or drunk lurking around. It’s almost too quiet, too calm.

Red Hood overlooks the streets from one of his regular vantage points. He has just finished his patrol and is about to round off for the night when something, or someone, catches his eye.  It’s a runner, and an early one as well. Why anyone in their right mind would get up at this hour to run for miles in this weather is beyond him. Sure, Red Hood is out on patrol in any weather but it’s because he has to, it’s his job. This guy woke up, looked out the window and thought to himself _‘You know what would be nice? Getting soaked and sweaty running in the rain.’_ Well, at least he won’t have to take a shower afterwards.

Red Hood follows him closely with his eyes. Curiosity gets the better of him once the runner is leaving his line of view, so he follows and tails the man running through the Hood’s district. Suddenly he stops in his tracks. The runner has come to a halt down by the river. Red Hood drops down from the nearest building onto the streets. He almost comes face-to-face with the early bird.

The runner is standing a few meters away, dressed in athletic, sleek pro gear with a hoodie over his head. The young man seems to be taking a short break on his run and is now typing frantically on his phone. His eyes then switch from the phone to look out across the river, his features changing from exhausted to calm. He’s got a handsome, well-built silhouette, and the gear really does him justice in how it is all tight and fitted across his toned, sleek, muscular body.

Suddenly the runner looks towards Jason. He seems to be assessing him as though he is something peculiar, a bit star-struck even. He straightens himself up and tries to return to his normal, focused mode, but gets careless and his phone slips from his fingers. It hits the pavement and the screen breaks into tiny pieces. The runner and Red Hood both stare at the phone and its broken fragments before the runner lets out a weary sigh and crouches down and starts to collect the pieces one by one. It’s pointless, really, the phone is beyond help by now, and yet the runner insists on collecting each fragment into his palm. To his own amazement, Red Hood heads over to the runner and picks up a piece and places it in the man’s palm. They don’t say a word to each other, but then they meet face to face when the runner looks up at him and says in a smooth voice,

“Thank you, handsome stranger.”

All competing city sounds seems to be muted out when Jason hears his voice. The two of them stand up again and the runner asks,

“So are you some kind of vigilante?” The runner looks coy, flirty even.

“You gotta be careful around these hoods, they are not especially friendly towards newcomers.” Red Hood responds, his voice rather monotone.

The runner chuckles and throws back his head. In an instinctive act of kindness, he places his right hand on Red Hood’s left arm and lets it linger there for a few seconds.

“Thanks for the warning, hero, but I can look after myself.”

“Well, you certainly have guts, I’ll give you that. Getting all touchy with strangers.”

The runner suddenly seems to shy away, a bit embarrassed from Red Hood’s remark, and he pulls back his hand and straightens up while slipping his broken phone into his pocket.

“Sorry,” The runner mumbles and sighs, “just my luck that my phone’s broken when I meet you.”

Red Hood hesitates, then asks “Why? You want to take a photo or something?”

“Definitely.” The runner responds cockily. “Ah well, a mental image will have to do.”

The runner turns away a bit, trying to hide his obvious blush, before a breeze comes in from the east, gently brushing their bodies. The runner sighs contently and pulls back his hoodie, his hair moving freely in the wind. He looks at Red Hood and gives him a friendly smile.

_No._

That dark hair, damp and sweaty, falling against his face so flawlessly, framing it perfectly. It’s long again, similar to the way it had been back when Tim had donned the Red Robin mantle for the first time. It had always been Jason’s favorite look on-

_Tim._

The runner runs a hand through his hair and Jason instinctively wonders what that hair would feel like between his own fingers. Jason can’t stop looking at his handsome, stunning face, with those clear blue eyes and long lashes piercing through his skin, just like-

_Tim._

His skin a bit more tanned than usual, but it’s a good look on him. Not to mention those parted, wet lips smiling Jason’s way. It makes Jason feel weak to his knees. He wonders to himself what they would feel like if he were to kiss-

“Anyway, I should probably get going.” The runner suddenly pulls up his hoodie again and abruptly turns to leave. Jason feels frozen in his steps, his skin is sweaty under the armor, his pupils huge under the hood.

_No. No, it can’t be._

The runner stops mid-step and looks back at Red Hood.

“You be careful now, hero. See you around.” The runner winks at him and laughs heartily before he runs off in a hurry.

_It’s Tim’s laughter._

Jason completely loses track of time. He doesn’t know for how long he stands down there by the river. He’s awakened by the return of rain. In an instant, he’s out of there and heads back to his safe house. On his way back, all he can think about is the runner and his youthful, handsome face and his well-defined, trimmed body.

_Tim._

Jason feels a hotness rise to his cheeks and he licks his lips.

 _Tim_.

He feels himself getting aroused, his pulse beating fast.

_Tim._

For the first time in 17 months, Jason doesn’t turn left towards the cemetery. This morning, he heads straight on home.

 

~*~

 **_TIM/ALVIN_  
****Song:** _Sail -_ AWOLNATION  
**Location** : Gotham City, New Jersey  
**Time:** 05:52 AM

Alvin shuts the door behind him and relaxes against the frame, his body tired from his morning run. He turns on the dimmers in his hotel room before heading straight over to the bed and collapsing on top of the soft silk sheets. He feels high and ecstatic, his whole body revved-up from his earlier encounter down by the river. His skin is tingling with excitement as adrenaline floods through his veins. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and tries to calm himself down. In his mind he can still picture the stranger in the red hood so clearly, so vividly, and he wonders what the man looks like underneath that mask of his.

He lets his hands wander down his tense, sweaty body to the soft fabric of his runners tights, his fingers pulling at the elastic waistband. He proceeds to pull down his pants and boxers, finally tossing them both aside in one go. Alvin grabs a firm, impatient grip around his erect cock and begins to lazily feel himself up.

**_“You want a hand with that?”_ **

Startled by the sudden voice next to him, Alvin opens his eyes to find the Double laying right next to him on the bed. The Double winks at Alvin as he lies there, all worked up, exposed and aroused. Alvin tries to sit up but the Double grabs Alvin by the neck and pins him down into the mattress with his lips. Alvin responds with an equal force and passion, and when they part Alvin simply stares at the identical young man before him, taking him in. _What is this? Is this even real?_

Alvin doesn’t have time nor energy to think another thought before the Double straddles his body and effectively pins him down using his weight. The Double slides his eager hands all over Alvin’s upper body and Alvin completely succumbs to the touch. Alvin can’t explain why, but he makes absolutely no resistance as the Double plunges down and kisses him again, their coordination way off. When they part the Double looks smug.

**_“Let me give you something to work with.”_ **

When their lips touch, Alvin feels an electric charge shooting through his body from his toes straight up into his head. It’s painful yet pleasurable at the same time, and Alvin closes his eyes – and that’s when he sees **_him._ **

_Alvin is back at the river where he met the mysterious man earlier. He’s standing right in front of Alvin, looking dangerous, feral. The man grabs Alvin’s shoulders firmly and pushes him up against a nearby brick wall. The stranger’s hands move down to Alvin’s waist to his pants. For a moment he just lingers there, before he practically tears off Alvin’s clothes rather aggressively and impatiently. With his other hand he pins Alvin roughly against the wall, his grip so tight it hurts._ _Alvin’s thighs flex and trembles as he struggles to find purchase somewhere, anywhere to ground himself against the stranger’s firm touch._

With his brow wrinkled in concentration, Alvin's breaths come on faster, as the pleasure of succumbing to the vision ignites a fire along his body. Alvin proceeds to stroke his erect cock while the Double arches forward and lets his tongue trail down along Alvin’s jaw to his mouth, teasingly licking along his lips. When the Double finally kisses him, Alvin feels drunk and out of breath as he moans into the Double’s mouth.

_The hooded man picks him up in his arms and presses Alvin backwards, to which Alvin responds by wrapping his legs tightly around the man’s waist. Slowly, the man unzips his pants and pulls out his very hard and erect cock for Alvin to see. Alvin feels the pull in his stomach building and building, excitement and arousal threatening to spill over inside of him as the man proceeds to stroke himself. The hooded stranger then lowers Alvin down onto him, his erect cock pressing painfully against Alvin’s tiny, unprepared hole._

His legs stiffen and his stomach tightens when the Double breaks off their kiss. Alvin uses this moment to glance down, swallowing hard as he watches his own hand pump himself at a steady pace, speeding up the motions from time to time. His chest tightens almost painfully as the cooler air of the room cuts in from the heat of the Double’s mouth. He wants this, needs this. Alvin basically growls when he opens his mouth.

“Give me _more._ ”

He is on fire, arching and craving for the pleasure that the Double’s hands and mouth brings to him. The Double tilts his head and obeys, instantly kissing him again. The same electric feeling bursts through his body and Alvin is right back in the arms of the stranger.

_Alvin wraps his arms around the man’s neck while the stranger starts to move inside of him. The stranger is in complete control of his body and when he thrusts into Alvin it feels as if he claims Alvin as his own. Alvin holds onto the man tightly, moaning and gasping into his neck as he feels euphoric jolts of excitement spreading throughout his body every time the stranger fills him up with that large, hard cock of his. The man pushes into him even harder, even faster. Looking down between their bodies, Alvin moans loudly, seeing the way their hips comes together. He is barely breathing while fighting the pull to reach down to touch himself to end the torture that the stranger is doing to his hips._

Alvin’s falling apart in the sheets, feeling the climax closing in on him. His release is building up so fast it's almost becoming painful. He speeds up even more and the Double laughs a little into their hot, messy kiss, when he says,

**_“Are you under the hood yet?”_ **

Alvin shakes his head, to which the Double only nods in understanding. Alvin almost jolts up in the sheets when the Double bites into his lower lip so hard that he bleeds. Alvin feels an even more intense pain burning through his skin, heading straight to his head and it hits him so hard he almost reaches his climax from the pain alone.

 _Suddenly the stranger is no longer wearing his red hood, his face is naked and bare. Alvin is immediately absorbed by the intense look spreading across the man's face, and Alvin thinks he’s the hottest man he’s ever seen. Alvin’s body recognizes the face a mere moment before his mind does, and a shiver runs down his spine when he practically feels the name upon his lips. The man grabs both of Alvin’s hands, pins them above his head and bites into Alvin’s shoulder when he thrusts deep and hard into Alvin’s body, filling him up with his warm and thick release. When the man kisses him again, it’s with an unrestrained passion. Their tongues push back and forth, fighting each other for dominance over the kiss._ _Alvin gasps desperately for air as he succumbs to the pull and feels his whole body erupt in exquisite release, his own cum spilling all over the man’s chest as Alvin moans out his name._

Alvin allows the sensation to invade his body and climaxes, coming all over himself. He sighs softly as he rests into the silk sheets while he leans into the little aftershocks that still tingle throughout his body. When he opens his eyes again the Double is gone. The sheets, like his mind, are a fucking mess. He must be going insane, because he just might actually have enjoyed that a little too much for his own liking. He reaches for the sheets and wipes off the cum from his hand.

_That face._

Alvin feels a blush creeping over his face, his heart beating harder. It’s such an intense feeling, this warmth and sense of familiarity that bubbles within him when he sees that face, hears that name.

_His name._

Alvin touches his lips where the Double bit him. Alvin wants so badly to taste his name for real, and so he whispers it out, almost like it’s something forbidden, something sacred.

“Jason.”


	4. Cracking Façades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers,  
> Thank you so much for supporting this fanfic and for all your lovely comments and kudos. It brings me so much joy to read them. This chapter took me a lot of time and hard work to finish, so I really hope you will like it. :)
> 
> This chapter has been beta read by the wonderful BlueFlameBird. Thank you so very much for helping me out! It truly means a lot!! Without you, this chapter would not have been published this weekend. You're a true savior. <3
> 
> There’s a reference to the movie “10 Things I Hate About You” in this chapter. I won’t assume that everyone has seen this movie, so here’s a link to the scene that’s referenced later on: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mqmkpp1-EAo
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy chapter 4! 
> 
>  
> 
> Spotify link: https://open.spotify.com/user/chowayu/playlist/2wczMqiu4k95v0XiHgbrBp
> 
> Chapter 4 Playlist:  
> Starboy – The Weeknd, Daft Punk  
> Take Me Home – Jess Glynne  
> Scared To Be Lonely (Acoustic Version) – Martin Garrix, Dua Lipa  
> Give Me That – Lisa Ajax  
> Easier - Mansionair  
> One More Light – Linkin Park  
> Sit Next to Me – Foster the People  
> Missing You – Boston Run  
> Close – Nick Jonas, Tove Lo

**_~*~_ **

**_TIM/ALVIN  
_****Song:** _Starboy –_ The Weeknd, Daft Punk  
**Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey  
**Time:** 11:00 AM

At eleven o’clock sharp, Bruce Wayne’s luxurious, vintage Duesenberg Model J, lurches up in front of the entrance to Alvin’s hotel. As the regal, classic-era car comes to a stop right in front of him, he can’t help but feel spellbound by its beauty and grace.

It shouldn’t surprise him that Bruce Wayne owns a Duesenberg. He is, after all, part of society's finest elites - mingling with magnates, barons, stars and starlets every weekend. He supposes that in order to uphold all that status and reputation, it must be of great import to own a national treasure. And she’s an absolutely breathtaking masterpiece. Both its exterior and interior having impeccable style. Alvin can’t help but admire it with a hint of jealousy.

When the chauffeur gets out of the car, he opens up the passenger door for Alvin. It makes him feel like he’s a debutante heading to a cotillion ball. He just stares back and forth between the driver and the Duesenberg, feeling slightly lost. He wishes a hand could to guide him in the proper ways of how to proceed.

“You want me to get into the car?”

“Well, if we are to be in time for luncheon, then yes, sir.” The chauffeur rolls his eyes and motions with his hand for Alvin to get a move on. “Mr. Wayne is waiting for you over at Wayne Manor.”

As he gets into the car he makes sure to move as carefully as he possibly can, feeling slightly terrified. The interior of the car has an almost furniture-like appearance with wooden panels and ebony white leather seats. Alvin feels rather small and insignificant when he places himself in middle of the magnificent seats. Meanwhile, the chauffeur closes the door behind him and quickly returns to the front, gets in and starts the car. 

While they’re on the road, the chauffeur suddenly picks up a gift wrapped box from the passenger seat and hands it over to Alvin.

“A gift from Mr. Wayne, sir.”

Alvin reluctantly accepts the gift, holding it in the palms of his hands like it’s a foreign object to be wary of. In the end, curiosity gets the better of him. He proceeds to slowly and carefully unwrap the beautiful, cream colored wrapping paper and the elegant golden ribbon. When he unboxes the gift and peeks inside, he finds himself another, smaller box that is white and unmistakable similar to the-

_iPhone 8._

He shakes his head in disbelief, and leans backwards comfortably into the seats. He’s not really concerned any longer with the price tag of the genuine leather. Alvin doesn’t even notice when the car slowly pulls up to the main entrance of Wayne Manor. He’s too obsessed with trying to figure out how Bruce Wayne could possibly have known about the mishap with his phone the other night. It unsettles him deeply, so much so that when he picks up his new iPhone he does so with trembling hands. He is absolutely terrified of what he might find on it.

_Thank god…_

He lets out a sigh of relief, at least the phone isn’t engraved with a certain someone’s name. Instead, it’s all a blank slate.

 

 **~*~  
_TIM/ALVIN_**  
**Song(s):** _(1) Take Me Home – Jess Glynne  
__(2) Scared To Be Lonely (Acoustic Version)_ – Martin Garrix, Dua Lipa  
**Location:** Wayne Manor, Gotham City  
**Time:** 11:24 AM 

The main entrance hall is tastefully, but sparsely, decorated with timeless antiques and modern furniture. The room’s decor is classic and breathtakingly beautiful. It must have been hand-picked by someone with impeccable taste. Through the large, dark windows the midday light casts long shadows across the marvelous creamy-hued marble floor.

Alvin stands alone in the great hall, taking it all in. He imagines that this must be how Alice felt when fell down the rabbit hole. He carefully touches some of the furniture, inspecting even the tiniest of details that catches his eye. On the walls are many great pieces of art, along with several photographs, framed in these tasteful, minimalistic mahogany frames. They are all well-known, expensive and absolutely gorgeous art pieces. Alvin can’t help but wonder how many of them are original prints.  

“Good morning, Alvin. They’re quite breathtaking, aren’t they?” Bruce’s deep voice echoes through the entrance hall as he descends down the stairs. He looks just as sharp and graceful as last time, and of course he is dressed to impress in a fitted, dark gray suit. Bruce is oozing of his characteristic confidence as he comes over to Alvin and gives him one of his charismatics smiles. “Yes, they are all original prints and collection pieces, in case you’re wondering.”

The way in which Bruce moves and speaks around him comes across as very natural. It feels genuine, as if he’s eager to please. Alvin can’t help but give Bruce a shy smile in return, before shifting his gaze towards the large photographs on the walls.

“This one here is -” Bruce begins.

“Sebastião Salgado.” Alvin interrupts, “I saw his _Genesis_ collection in Stockholm.” Alvin looks smug as he lets his fingers linger over the frame, taking it in. “This specific photo is from a wildlife refuge in Alaska. It comes across as very biblical, the way the sunlight beams down from the sky onto the dark, rocky landscape. Don’t you agree?”

When Alvin turns to face Bruce, he’s faced with a mixture of pride and amusement on the older man’s face. Bruce only nods in agreement. The two of them continue down the hall in silence, before Bruce comes to a halt in front of another photograph.

“You know this one?”

“Who do you take me for?” Alvin chuckles slightly while giving Bruce a challenging glare. “It’s Elliot Erwitt. His photos are incredibly popular in Europe right now.”

Alvin knows he’s coming across as a smartass. It is mostly due to the fact that his nerves are practically eating him alive, especially whenever he’s in Bruce’s presence. But a tiny part of him enjoys it though, the way he comes across as the brightest and smartest person in the room. 

His eyes catch onto another frame hanging further down the hall. He immediately heads on over to it. It’s a large photograph of a lion lying on a Savannah, its distinctive mane moving freely in the wind.

“Nick Brandt.” Alvin sighs contently and leans in to admire the photo up close. “This one is called _Lion Before Storm_. It’s one of his most iconic pieces.”

“It’s a mighty photo. I believe he took this photograph in Kenya?” Bruce asks, sounding genuinely interested, while moving up next to Alvin. When Bruce stands right next to him, Alvin feels his right foot tap impatiently. It’s a signature trait of his, he always does it whenever he feels anxious or nervous.

“Yes, in Masai Mara. Most of his photos from this collection are from there. I didn’t take you for a Brandt fan. I’m this close to thinking you’ve intentionally picked out these pieces just to impress me, but that would be insane. Right?”

“And why is that?” Bruce lets out a short laugh before looking at Alvin earnestly. The two of them are standing so close, almost shoulder to shoulder. Even though Alvin feels way too nervous to function normally, he still doesn’t make the slightest attempt to move. All of this feels too familiar, too good. Alvin takes a deep breath before saying,

“Because all of these photos are my personal favorites.”  

Silence befalls both of them. While it probably should feel awkward or weird, it only feels comforting. Welcoming even, in how the two of them simply enjoy each other’s presence without speaking or commenting on Alvin’s statement. Finally, Alvin lets out a deep sigh and as he does so, he feels his tense shoulders ease a little.

“Joel would’ve loved this.” Alvin suddenly blurts out, trying to move on with the conversation naturally. Bruce raises a questioning eyebrow at him in response. “Joel is one of our interns. Or was, I’m not so sure anymore. He aspires to mimic this particular style, this stillness of life that black and white photographs can convey. And he absolutely sucks at it.”

Alvin bursts out into laughter as he remembers Joel’s hipster portfolio, with all its black and white prints of moody teenage girls glaring into the camera. He’d probably look the same if Joel had asked him to pose for his portfolio.

“I take it you’re not particularly fond of this ‘Joel’.” Bruce jokingly says as they enter into the enormous dining area. In the middle of the room is a long French oak table paired with several modern arm chairs, and a 19th-century Persian rug in the center. Above the table hangs a glass chandelier by _Peter Mikic,_ its distinctive style giving the dining set an extra edge. On the opposite end of the room there are églomisé mirrors, framed in gold, surrounding the lit up marble fireplace. The glow from the fire dances across the white oak floor, as Bruce walks over to the far end of the table. He sits down in one of the chairs, gesturing for Alvin to join him.

“So tell me, how do you prefer to shoot your photographs?” Bruce takes a graceful sip of his wine. Alvin seats himself on Bruce's left side and leans back in the comfortable chair.

“Well, have you ever heard of Martin Schoeller? Or Albert Wiking?”

Bruce nods his head while giving Alvin his complete attention. It makes excitement spur within him. It’s quite rare to meet someone who follows his every train of thought so delicately, especially with all its random name drops and obscure references. Alvin takes a big gulp of his water and says,

“Well, my aspiration is to make both of them pale in comparison to me.”

Alvin blushes a little after his bold confession, before diverting his attention towards the many forks and knives lying in front of him. For once, he is actually grateful that Ben forced him to watch all seasons of _Downton Abbey._ At least it taught him the proper etiquette of table manners.  

“From what I’ve seen so far, I’m certain you will one day.” Bruce says, his voice all soft and friendly. He raises his glass as if to make a toast, but before Alvin can respond, the butler joins them with their lunches on an elegant silver tray. When the butler, an older man with the kindest of eyes, puts down Alvin’s plate in front of him, he gets that same feeling again. The feeling of familiarity, of belonging.  

“So, Alvin” Bruce brakes out surprisingly. “As a journalist, what’s your opinion of me?”

Alvin feels a little overwhelmed by the question. He ponders for a minute, and considers if there is any way he can be evasive about it. But before Alvin can respond, Bruce continues,

“I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea of me from all these stories and tabloids that the press feeds you.”

Alvin grins at Bruce’s concern, while picking up one of his forks to dig into the delicious looking food. After his first bite, he looks at Bruce with great interest and answers,

“You mean the flawless, billionaire playboy, whose parents died at a young age? Which resulted in him inheriting a great deal of money, a mansion and a business empire?” He takes a bite of the salmon. It’s absolutely delicious. “I _might_ have heard of that guy, but he doesn’t interest me.”

“Why not?" 

Bruce puts down his glass of wine and turns in his chair, facing Alvin straight on. He has this growing look of worry and puzzlement over his otherwise collected features. It intrigues Alvin. He has finally found a sensitive button, and _oh is he gonna push it._

“Because it’s a façade. All of this,” Alvin motions with his hand around the room, “it’s to appeal to others, isn’t it?” He raises his eyebrow suggestively. “My opinion of you, Mr. Wayne, is that you’re far too complicated and abstract to be single handedly reduced to a single, simple headline.” Alvin puts away his utensils and leans back in his chair. “Before meeting you, I would have probably been able to call you off as just another rich playboy, but now that I am here, in your presence, it feels like…”

“Feels like what?”

“Like I can’t give you the story you properly deserve, Mr. Wayne.”

“Why is that?”

The way Bruce phrases his words has this feeling of uncertainty to it, and it makes Alvin’s heart bleed a little. When he meets Bruce’s eyes he does so with sincerity shining through them.

“I have this feeling you won’t tell me the truth. You’re too keen on upholding appearances, to act out this charade of yours as your public persona. It’s what you want people to see, to believe, but it’s not honest.” Alvin pauses for effect. “Let me unmask you.”

“Alright, try me. Ask me anything.” Bruce replies. It’s a challenge, Alvin hears it in how Bruce emphasizes the words. It shows through in how he grows a thicker skin around himself, as if to steady himself for whatever Alvin might throw his way.

“Okay,” Alvin pauses and takes a deep breath, as he considers his next words carefully. His stomach twists and turns into a hundred tiny, painful knots, as he asks the question that probably all of Gotham are dying to hear the answer to. “Why doesn’t Tim have a grave?”

“Because it would be an ending.” Bruce answers immediately, his answer bearing so much seriousness and graveness to it. It startles Alvin. He’d expected the man to be taken aback, outraged or saddened, but no. Instead, Bruce leans forward in his chair and rests his left hand on the table, only inches away from Alvin’s own.

“An ending? To what?” Alvin asks, the words barely louder than a whisper.

“Tim always believed in me. Even when all hope seemed lost, when everyone else had given up. Even when people questioned Tim’s sanity, he still persisted and insisted to never let go of me.” Bruce meets Alvin’s eyes. “As a _father,_ the least I can do is return the favor.”

Alvin feels his chest tighten, his eyes reluctantly watering up. Bruce’s fingers slowly and gently reach out and touches Alvin’s hand.

“What favor?”

And when Bruce gently holds Alvin’s hand in his, Alvin doesn’t resist.

“To believe he’ll return home one day.”

  _No. No. No._

He feels the panic building up. All the nerves, anxiety and confusion erupting within him, choking him.

_I’m not ready for this._

It comes onto him quickly, mercilessly and painfully. His head starts pounding, reminding him of his lack of context and identity. He’s not far away from tears when he feels the all too familiar cold breeze on his neck

 ** _“Breathe.”_** He hears the Double whisper into his ear, in a far calmer and subtler voice than usual. **_“Excuse yourself. Bathroom, down the hallway, take the stairs, then first door on your left.”_**

As if the chair is on fire, Alvin rises up quickly while eyeing the open archway from where they previously came. He pushes back his chair with an apologetic look lingering over his features, as he shyly looks Bruce’s way.  

“I’m sorry, I really need to go to the bathroom.”

“It’s alright. It’s down the hallway, take the -”

“-stairs, then first door on my left, I know. Thanks.” Alvin blurts out while hurrying towards the hallway. He fails to see the great shock that hits Bruce with full force, which makes him drop his wine glass onto the 19th-centruy Persian rug.

**~*~**

So here he is once again, hidden away in yet another bathroom. Alvin looks at himself in the mirror in front of him. It’s still there, the thin crack splitting him in half. It doesn’t matter which mirror it is, whenever he sees his reflection there is always that same crack.

 ** _“You did good.”_** The Double whispers into his ear, while gently caressing Alvin’s arms from behind. Alvin leans into the Double’s touch. He feels himself relax as he closes his eyes, allowing for the breathing of the Double to guide him into silent bliss and tranquility.

“Are you always present?”

 ** _“Yes.”_** The Double murmurs into Alvin’s ear and cups his face. Alvin tilts his head slightly backwards so that the Double can face him head on. He leans in and whispers against Alvin’s mouth, **_“I’ve got your back. Always.”_**

When Alvin opens his eyes again, the Double is gone. He can still feel the chilling touch of the Double’s hands on his body, the soothing cold calming him down. With one last glance in the mirror, Alvin turns, unlocks the door and leaves the bathroom.

 **~*~  
****Song:** Give Me That – Lisa Ajax

Upon leaving the bathroom, he hears soft grunts and pounding sounds coming from somewhere nearby. Out of pure curiosity, he wanders down the corridor to seek out the source. _Of course, a gym_.   

Alvin walks into the gym. There’s small teen there, around 12-13 years old perhaps. The boy turns around and their eyes meet for a brief second, before the kid quickly looks away. Alvin immediately recognizes the kid. He’s seen him in the hundreds of photos he’s been going through in the past days. _Damian Wayne_.

As soon as he turns to leave, he hears a yell coming from behind him.

“Catch!” Damian yells and throws a bo staff in Alvin’s direction, but Alvin is too slow. He fails to catch it only by a few inches, but it is enough to make him feel humiliated. He picks it up from the floor and tries to figure out how to properly hold and use the bo staff. Damian has his own bo staff in a tight grip in his hands, eyeing Alvin intensely.

Okay, so the kid wants to do some sparring. Sure, he can do that. He smiles cockily towards Damian and moves over to him. The kid bows and takes a step back, turning the bo staff around in his hands. It’s a _kid._ How hard can it be?

Alvin can’t say a single word before Damian comes on strongly with an overhead attack, aiming for Alvin’s head. Alvin manages to block the incoming attack in the very last second, resulting in him stumbling backwards clumsily. He has no time to recover as Damian comes on to him again, this time sweeping his bo staff towards Alvin’s ankles. He gets a hit straight on, sweeping Alvin’s legs out from underneath him so he falls on his back. Damian immediately makes a finishing move with a downward thrust, the staff landing on Alvin’s chest.

“1-0.” Damian mutters, sounding slightly disappointed. He removes his bo staff from Alvin’s chest, and Alvin immediately gets up on his feet.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you this time.” Damian more or less growls at him as he turns the bo staff in his hands. “Concentrate.”

“What, you call that _easy_?” Alvin gets himself into a defensive positon, prepared to block or parry any move Damian has coming for him.

In a quick motion Damian raises his bo staff above his head, turns it counterclockwise and lands a swift strike with the right end of the staff onto Alvin’s neck. It’s a perfect hit.

“Fuck!” Alvin drops his bo staff to the floor and takes a few steps back, touching the spot on his neck where Damian hit him. The landing had hit him hard, with his neck now soaring and burning in pain.

“2-0. And you dropped your staff, so that gives you additional minus points. Score is now 3-0.” Damian shakes his head, sounding more and more irritated. Damian throws his bo staff back and forth between his hands, acting like it’s child’s play, intentionally making it look easy. His face has this growing look boredom and disappointment. It provokes and bothers Alvin more than it probably should. Why should he need to prove himself to this child?

“Well, excuse me for not being an expert.” Alvin says as he picks up the bo staff again. His voice comes across sounding way more defeated than he wants it to. This whole ordeal makes him feel uneasy and embarrassed. “It’s not like I’ve done this before.”

Damian gets into fighting stance once again and aims his bo staff in Alvin’s direction.

“Either you make progress or you make excuses. And only _losers_ make excuses.”   

“Are you calling me a loser?” Alvin counters. He feels his irritation rising from his chest to his head. This kid sure knows how to push his buttons.

“Prove me wrong then,” Damian is intentionally mocking him now, testing him. He spits on the ground and glares up at Alvin, “ _Loser.”_

Alvin is about to give up and just angrily throw away the bo staff when he feels his body freeze. The feeling spreads, tingling and freezing, throughout his whole body. He recognizes this feeling all too well by now, so he wholeheartedly embraces it. He closes his eyes and can practically feel the Double closing in on him, consuming him whole.

 ** _“Allow me.”_**  

When Alvin opens his eyes again he feels different. His whole body is ecstatic and full of confidence with adrenaline pumping through his veins. He throws back his hair and grips the bo staff more steadily, appearing like he’s done this his whole life.

 ** _“Come at me, bro.”_** Alvin hears himself say confidently, and Damian immediately throws himself at him with full strength. He is going for that strike against his head again. But this time around, Alvin is quicker, swifter and ready. He raises his staff and blocks the attack in one single, strong motion. He instantly follows up with a quick sweep to Damian’s left side, which makes the teen stumble backwards. Damian loses his balances for a second and it’s enough for Alvin to thrust a heavy strike to Damian’s chest. Damian falls hard on his back, losing hold of his bo staff.

Alvin doesn’t know what reaction to expect from Damian, but he certainly didn’t expect this. The kid looks up at him in awe. He is not bitter or especially eager to get back up either. Instead, he grins and nods his head in approval.

“Now we’re making progress!”

“Damian.” Bruce stern voice startles them both. “What are you doing?”  

Alvin backs off so Damian can get back on his feet again. While he does so, Alvin picks up and hands over the other bo staff to him. Damian eyes his suspiciously as he accepts it, before turning his attention towards Bruce.

“It’s an experiment.” Damian says and shrugs, acting like it’s none of his father’s business.

Bruce doesn’t reply to Damian, he merely nods his head and turns to Alvin.

“Shall we continue with the interview?”

“Yeah,” Alvin looks back and forth between the father and his son, before he turns to face Damian and reaches out his right hand.

“I guess that’s a win for you then. Well fought.”

“You are admitting defeat to _me_?” Damian sounds like he’s in disbelief, ignoring Alvin’s outreached hand. The look on Damian’s face has this blend of shock, skepticism and disapproval. It confuses Alvin. It makes him wonder what he could possibly have done different to avoid this reaction. “I demand a rematch. Do that last thing again, but come at me from behind-”

“Damian.” Bruce voice is calm, but it still cuts the tension in half like a knife. Damian says nothing in return, he merely backs off and hangs his head. Bruce exists the gym with Alvin close it tow, but before he leaves, Alvin glances back one last time at Damian. He is standing completely still in the center of the room, clutching the bo staff in his shaking fists, before he hurls it against the wall. Damian turns hastily around, as if feeling Alvin’s lingering eyes on his skin.

“So, a rematch,” Alvin nods in Damian’s direction, smiling. “this weekend?”

A tiny smile creeps forth across the kid’s face.

“Don’t be late.” Damian replies confidently, before he turns and returns to his training.

 

 **~*~**  
**_STEPHANIE  
_****Song:** _Easier_ \- Mansionair  
**Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey  
**Time:** 04:23 PM

It’s not supposed to happen this way. She has pictured several scenarios in her mind, always pressing rewind to go back to change, to perfect even the tiniest of insignificant details. Out of all possible outcomes, she is not supposed to meet **_him_** like this. Not in her favorite café on a busy afternoon. Especially not today out of all days, not when she’s hurting from stomach cramps and is comfortably dressed for lying in bed all day.

Stephanie feels so self-conscious. She’s dressed in her worn out Adidas sweats, with her greasy blonde hair tied up in a messy bun. To really top it off, she’s wearing the mint green sweater Tim bought her for her 15th birthday. Tim, on the other hand, is looking as flawless as ever, sitting over by the counter with his computer and a large coffee. His hoodie is pulled up over his head, most likely an attempt to shy away from the public eye.

At first she wants nothing else than to make a run for it, preferably disappear into thin air or turn invisible. The very thought of interacting with Tim terrifies her. Ever since Dick had called her to inform her about this twisted turn of events, she’s been telling herself that this is fate. It is fate playing a cruel game on her, on all of them. Standing here now, seeing _her Tim_ alive and well, makes this moment feel cruelly destined and inevitable. So she does what she does best and confronts her fears head on. She takes a few determined strides over to the seat right next to Tim.

“Hey, do you mind if I sit here?”

He’s still as good-looking as ever, if not even more. He seems to hesitate for a moment, before he tilts his head to get a better look at her. Their eyes meet and she can almost feel Tim’s clear blue eyes take her in. He inspects her from top to toe, and offers her the sort of smile that always used to make her weak to her knees.

“No, not at all.” He answers kindly and pulls out the chair for her. “I’m sorry, but there is something awfully familiar about you. Have we met before?”

“Maybe? People often tell me I remind them of a young Christina Applegate?” She lets out a sweet laughter, before she sits down next to him. “I’m Stephanie, but you can call me Steph. What’s your name?”

“Alvin.” Tim answers and shrugs, downing his coffee before sneaking another peak at Stephanie.

 _No, it’s not._ Stephanie thinks to herself, feeling slightly uneasy at the mentioning of the _wrong_ name. She picks up a coffee menu and diverts her attention elsewhere. They sit in silence for a moment, before Stephanie leans over the counter to reach for a napkin. When she does, their fingers brush against one another. Tim immediately looks away from her while touching his temples, appearing to be in pain.

**\---*---**

_It’s back in the summer of 1999. Tim has borrowed his’s father’s car without permission to take Stephanie, his girlfriend, to the premiere of ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ at the drive-in cinema. Upon their arrival, Tim wraps his right arm around Stephanie’s shoulders. She’s wearing that dorky, mint-green sweater he got her for her 15 th birthday. As for himself, he has actually managed to perfect his signature preppy look tonight by wearing his brand new, dark blue, Fred Perry shirt. Stephanie comments on it many times, always complimenting it affectionately. _

_Stephanie leans into Tim’s warm embrace and asks him over and over again if he finds the movie interesting, yet all Tim responds with is a slightly interested humming sound now and then – until the scene with biology class. Tim’s eyes are transfixed on the movie screen as a young, handsome Heath Ledger appears on screen. He feels his chest tighten, his heart beat quicken._

_Towards the end of the movie, just when Bianca is about to head off to prom with Cameron, Stephanie blushes intensely before she comments on how much the two of them resembles Bianca and Cameron. Tim’s response is to laugh at her, pretending to brush it off as just another joke. In reality, it only makes him nervous that Stephanie pictures them like that. Like a perfect, American sweetheart couple._

_While Stephanie giggles as Cameron and Bianca kiss, all Tim can think of are dissection charts of frog anatomy and a moody Heath Ledger violently impaling a frog with a butterfly knife._

**\---*---**

Tim appears to be a bit tense when he looks back at her. Stephanie can’t help but wonder _why_. Then it dawns upon her that maybe, just _maybe,_ there’s something there reminding him of Stephanie, of them and all their shared memories. At the same time, Tim’s obliviousness fucks with her emotions, it reminds her of their post-break up and all the time they’ve spent apart.

It’s not the sex she misses, it’s the relationship. Sex can be replaced, a best friend cannot. Sex can be found on Tinder or picked up at a bar on a drunk night out. But the connections between companions and partners can’t be randomly acquired. They require time and effort to grow. It’s especially the feeling of nostalgia that hurts the most. It’s all their Sunday movies nights with greasy pizza carton boxes and lazy make out sessions in bed. It’s the warm body embracing her sleeping form in the middle of the night, their pathetic inside jokes, even the awkward family dinners at Tim’s father’s house.

Life without Tim hasn’t been the same. Even though they broke up years ago, she still wasn’t ready to move on in a world without him. He’d deprived her of their future and all her teenage dreams back when they broke up, but she’d forgiven him for that, moved on even. But when Tim died he took with him all their moments – all their days of morning cuddles, goodnight kisses and changed relationship statutes on Facebook.

The hurtful memories overwhelm her. She misses him so much even now, so much so that her eyes are watering up. She can’t help herself when she suddenly throws her arms around a very startled Tim and pulls him into a tight embrace.

_Thank god._

_He still smells the same._

 

 **~*~  
****_TIM/ALVIN_  
Song: **_One More Light_ – Linkin Park  
**Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey  
**Time:** 04:45 PM

**\---*---**

_Stephanie comes to the door with a smug expression on her face. She points at Tim._

_“Please tell me it’s a joke. You’re not actually doing summer school this year, right? Like, what?”_

_“Yep. Biology and chemistry. My father thinks I should get ahead.”_

_Stephanie walks into his bedroom and drops down on his unmade single bed. She leans down on her back into the comfortable mattress while chewing on her bubblegum. Occasionally, she blows a bubble and pops it using her lilac fingernails._

_“I don’t get it. Aren’t you at the top of your class? Or at your school even?”_

_“It’s not the grades, Steph. You know that.” Tim shakes his head, evidently very frustrated. “He wants to control me, control Robin -”_

_There is a sudden knock at the door which startles them both. Stephanie quickly sits up on the bed and adjusts her clothes as Tim closes his backpack and turns to face the door. The door opens and Jack Drake walks into the room. Tim rises from the desk and looks at his father with skepticism, bracing himself for whatever his father might have coming his way._

_“Father.”_

_“Tim, I've just spoken to Principal Dunst. We both think that you can take on some additional extracurricular activities this semester, and I've decided that you should drop the martial arts.”_

_Tim shuts his eyes turns away as sighs out a deep breath, his shoulders rising, body tensing._

_“But I'm on the team this year -”_

_“It’s for the best, Tim.”_

_“But father, I can't. It wouldn't be fair to my teammates.” He tries so hard, his voice pleading._

_“Stephanie, would you excuse us for a moment?” Jack says to Stephanie, finally recognizing her presence in the room, before he turns and walks towards the door._

_Jack Drake pauses by the door and smiles to Stephanie, waiting for Tim to join him outside.  Tim hesitantly follows his father and closes the door behind him. His father walks down the hallway and Tim follows, keeping some distance between them. When Jack Drake stops and turns, his smile has faded._

_“Don't you ever dispute me in front of others. Do you understand?”_

_“I wasn't disputing -”_

_“As long as you live under my roof, you do as I tell you. Is that clear?”_

_Tim doesn’t mean to raise his voice against his father, but the anger boiling inside of him finally tips over._

_“Why don’t you ever listen to me? You don’t care about what I want or what I need -”_

_“Oh, but Bruce does?” Jack Drake’s voice is full of scorn, his eyes going dark. “Don’t lie to me, Tim. I know damn well why you insist on continuing with the martial arts. But that will come to an end now. As well as your visits to Mr. Wayne.”_

_“But father -”_

_“No, Tim. Not another word. This is not up for discussion.”_

_Jack Drake turns and leaves, his shadow lingering across the hallway like a painful reminder of their strained relationship. Tim leans his head against the wall when Stephanie emerges from his bedroom. She walks over to him and places her hand gently on his left shoulder._

_“Are you okay?”_

_Tim only sighs and avoids looking at Stephanie as she wraps her arms around him, holding him in a tight embrace._

_“I am not trying to defend your dad, but I think he’s just afraid of losing you.”_

_“I just wish he’d trust me.”_

_“So, what are you going to do?”_

_Stephanie entwines their fingers and gently rubs her thumbs across Tim’s hands. When Tim looks back at Stephanie he sounds so defeated and worn._

_“Drop out of martial arts obviously.”_

_Stephanie tightens her hold of Tim as he hides his face in her neck._

_“You’ll figure this out, baby. You always do.”_

**\---*---**

**Song:** _Sit Next to Me_ – Foster the People

Alvin pushes Stephanie away from him, almost falling off his chair in the process. She seems startled as she looks back at him with red, tear stricken eyes. She quickly composes herself while removing the remaining tears with the back of her hands.

“I’m so sorry, you just remind me of -”

“Somebody that you used to know.”

Stephanie slowly nods her head, a low laughter escaping her throat. She pulls out her chair and gets up to leave, but she doesn’t make it far. Before she’s even left her seat, Alvin grabs her arm and holds her in place. The two of them fall silent as their eyes meet once again. This time, their eyes are reflecting each other’s emotional turmoil of uncertainty and craving validation. Alvin loses his tight hold of Stephanie’s arm and takes a deep breath before he says,

“Stay. _Please_?”

Stephanie immediacy seats herself again next to Alvin, even moving her chair closer towards his. They sit shoulder to shoulder, both carefully thinking through what to say next, when a chirpy, 20-something barista walks over to them.

“Are you two having anything else?”

“Yeah, more coffee for starters,” Alvin practically shoves his coffee cup at the barista while eyeing the counter with its many desserts, “And Steph here wants the, uh -”

“The key lime cheesecake, please,” Stephanie answers politely and leans backwards so she can get a better view of the desserts. “and a biscotti for my friend here.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m on a strict diet regimen.”

“The hell you are.” Stephanie winks at him and chuckles lightly, “You can’t possibly get any fitter than this. You look absolutely…” Slightly embarrassed, she trails of mid-rant as she realizes what she’s saying. Thankfully, it is perfectly timed with the arrival of their coffees. Stephanie almost jumps up from her seat, a bit too overly excited, to accept them. Once she sits down again, she’s just about to apologize when Alvin pats her on her back.

“Absolutely amazing? I’m aware.” He snickers at her and she blushes furiously in return. She turns her attention to the warm coffee cup in her palms and shakes her head.

“So much for being humble.”

Stephanie and Alvin burst into laughter just when the barista puts down their respective plates in front of them. Stephanie dives into her cheesecake, really enjoying every single bite. She even offers Alvin to have a taste once, but he declines.

Alvin is about to tell Stephanie a story about this one time he went out for coffee in Oslo at this really popular café called _Kaffebrenneriet_ , when his phone rings. The display reads ‘EVA’. Alvin excuses himself, gets up from his seat and walk away from Stephanie before answering.

 

 **EVA:** _You’re alive._

 **ALVIN:** _Good morning to you too, Eva._

 **EVA:** _Isn’t it good afternoon over there?_

 **ALVIN:** _Maybe? I have no idea what time it is to be honest. It’s been… hectic._

 **EVA:** _So, a little bird might have told me that you have something for me._

 **ALVIN:** _I do, but who told you?_

 **EVA:** _Does it matter? Anyway, please tell me it starts with a B, followed by a R and then -”_

 **ALVIN:** _Bruce Wayne, yes. I’m working on the transcript as we speak._

 **EVA:** _Well done, Alvin. Really, I mean it. Can you send it to editorial tomorrow?_

 **ALVIN:** _I’ll try, but I won’t promise anything. How are things holding up over there?_

 **EVA:** _Well, for starters, Joel is back. I swear, these interns are going to be death of me. Anyway, Ben says hi. He asked me to tell you to answer your phone once in a while._

 **ALVIN:** _I always answer my phone._

 **EVA:** _Really?_

 **ALVIN:** _What? It’s totally not my fault that my phone automatically has put Ben’s signal on mute._

 **EVA:** _He asked me to forward this message to you: Al, I’ve just bought all seasons of MR. SELFRIDGE. When are you back in London?_

 **ALVIN:** _No. Tell Ben that period dramas are so out of the question. Anyway, why are you really calling?_

 **EVA:** _Well, I am hoping that you are up for another job. I want you to go to an event on Friday night and cover it for us. Conveniently enough, it’s actually taking place in Gotham._

 **ALVIN:** _Okay, what kind of event are we talking about?_

 **EVA:** _It’s DJ Mag’s Annual Top 100 Announcement_.

 **ALVIN:** _That sounds fun, I guess? Are there going to be any actual DJ’s attending?_

 **EVA:** _Well, seeing how it’s at the grand arena, one would think so, no?_

 **ALVIN:** _Fine, I’m on it. Send me the details and ticket as soon as possible, won’t you?_

 **EVA:** _Of course. You take care now. I’ll talk to you later._

**~*~**

Once Alvin hangs up on Eva, he looks back and forth between his phone and Stephanie. She is still sitting over by the counter, enjoying her coffee. He suddenly gets this crazy idea, and while a part of him sternly says ‘ _No’,_ there’s an even stronger feeling countering it, a tingling sensation begging him to go forth and take a leap of faith.

Stephanie practically beams of joy and excitement when he returns to his seat.

“Hey, what are you up to on Friday night?”

“Netflix, but no chill.” Stephanie eyes him curiously, as she brings her coffee cup to her lips again. “Why?”

“You wanna go to a party with me?”

Stephanie almost chokes on her coffee as an irritated cough gets stuck in her throat. She puts her right hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath.

“Sorry, what? This is just very sudden.”

“Not any more sudden than you hugging me like your life depended on it, followed by you crying your eyes out on my shoulder.”

“Touché.” Stephanie’s replies as her face turns into a deep shade of crimson. She fumbles with a few strands of hair that has fallen out of her messy bun, while Alvin sits down next to her again.

“Relax,” Alvin turns to face her, their legs swinging back and forth. “It’s not a date.”

“What? I’m not your type?” Stephanie counters jokingly.

Alvin bites into his lower lip, his chest tightening as he considers his answer carefully _._

“Let’s just say, I already have my eyes set on someone.”

“Oh? Who?” Stephanie puts down her coffee and leans into Alvin’s personal space.

“Well, that’s the thing I’m set on finding out,” he brings his coffee to his lips and downs it all in one go before catching Stephanie’s full attention, with determination shining through his eyes. “at dawn.”

 **~*~  
****_TIM/ALVIN  
_****Song:** _Missing You_ – Boston Run  
**Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey  
Time: 03:55 AM

It’s 03:55 AM when Alvin reluctantly wakes to the sound of his alarm going off. Feeling slightly dazed, startled and sweaty, he slowly comes to while the rest of the hotel is fast asleep. He sits up in complete darkness and tries his best to wake up, letting his breathing guide him into a less sleepy state of mind. He feels so tempted to go back to sleep, but then he remembers why he’s up at this dreadful hour. His reasons might be perceived as slightly insane, but he just doesn’t care anymore, he needs to see the stranger once more. He’s been out, running, every morning this past week. After several unsuccessful attempts at finding the stranger, he’s come to the conclusion that the odds of getting a glimpse of the stranger are greater if he’s out before 4 AM.

So he leaps up and proceeds to change into his gear in the dimly lit hotel room.  It’s a rather plain and anonymous hotel room. Alvin likes to keep his surroundings tidy. His clothes are neatly folded on a nearby table all, while all other surfaces are wiped clean with only a bare minimum of his personal possessions out. When he’s dressed and ready to go, his hands skim the spotless surfaces in the dark to reach for an energy bar and a Gatorade. He can’t eat a proper breakfast at this hour, it will only give him cramps. So he downs his bottle of Gatorade in the elevator, and throws it away as soon as he walks through the lobby. There are no other guests awake and the hotel lobby is almost empty, except for a receptionist and two guards.

Outside it’s still dark with chilly winds coming in from the east. He zips up the zipper on his wind jacket, pulls up the hoodie over his head and plugs in the headphones. He scrolls through his various Spotify playlists, and settles for one of his various EDM playlists for running. It’s only a swift click on the shuffle button, and he’s off.

In his pro athletic gear he’s basically a living advert for _Runner’s World Magazine_. The smile on his face and the complete control over his body telling anyone all they need to know about his passion for running. His mouth hums along to the beats of the music, which builds up ever so subtly to suddenly morph into an onslaught of euphoric trance. The rhythm of the trance is mixed with deep house beats, perfect for running long distance.

He’s running through the streets, his posture and breathing similar to that of an athlete pacing himself.  As the adrenaline keeps on pumping through his veins, his feet negotiate the concrete ground. His face and eyes are completely focused on placing his feet correctly and in a constant pace.

When he’s been running for thirty minutes, the road suddenly goes uphill. It’s an absolutely perfect opportunity for intervals. Alvin gasps for oxygen and his legs scream for rest as he pushes and pushes until he finally crests the top. His mouth is dry and he bites on his lower lip, the thirst becoming unbearable, but he keeps on going.

When he runs into the familiar district, he takes a left and heads down towards the river again. His mind is playing unfair tricks on him, making him feel slightly unsettled, as the eerie absence of people reminds him of scenes from The Walking Dead. He stops for a minute to collect himself and take in his surroundings, and decides to unplug both his earplugs and puts them along with his phone in his inner pocket of his wind jacket. _You know, just to be safe._

He doesn’t know what brings him to do it, but something urges him to look up behind him. And as his gaze lands on the rooftops, that’s when he knows he’s reached his finish line. He’s finally found him.

_Jason._

**~*~**  
**Song:** _Close_ – Nick Jonas, Tove Lo

Alvin feels like he’s ten years old again when he climbs up to the rooftop. It’s the same thrill rushing through him, the same excitement he felt in his youth while trying to catch up with Batman and Robin. He misses this, to be sleepless and out on adventures while the rest of the world’s asleep.

When he finally reaches the top he heaves himself up over the ledge. He looks up to find the hooded stranger standing on the opposite end of the rooftop, seemingly uninterested in Alvin’s arrival. His focus appears directed towards the riverbank paths, from where the sunrise slowly creeps forth, casting tiny rays of light across the stranger’s well-built body. Feeling slightly apprehensive, Alvin takes a few careful steps towards the stranger.

“Hey you,” Alvin says and pauses. He removes his headphones and feels his body growing restless and nervous. “I wanted to say thank you, for last time.”

He braves another glance at the hooded man, only to see him still standing still and silent. Alvin begins to feel anxious, not quite sure of what to say or do next. Shit, he has probably interrupted something important. Why else would someone be hanging out on rooftops at this hour?

Then the stranger turns to face him and Alvin instantly feels his body tense up. He hides his trembling hands in his pockets, his right hand brushing against his phone.

“Yeah, so I got myself a new phone.” Alvin takes out his phone and smiles the other’s way. “Well, it was a gift…but still.”

The stranger only shrugs in reply, his attention returning to the streets. Alvin sighs, feeling slightly humiliated with himself for even thinking that this was a good idea. This is not the meeting he’s been picturing all week, this is only unbearable and annoying. Alvin shakes his head in defeat and turns to leave, but then he feels **_it_**. That familiar tingling pain, the pull at his heartstrings. It’s the Double again, knowingly teasing him. Instead of putting up a fight, Alvin allows for himself to succumb to it. He lets it consume him whole, and as his mouth opens he can hear himself say,

**_“See you around, Jason.”_ **

In an instant the pain and the tingling in his head is gone. It feels like the Double is playing a cruel trick on him. But before he can stop and think about it any further, he feels a firm, steady grip of hands on his shoulders, turning him around with great force and shoving him against the nearby wall. He looks up and feels his knees going weak as the stranger holds him in place. This whole scenario reminds him an awful lot of the wet vision/dream that the Double had provided him with. It doesn’t exactly make things any easier, as he’s already flustered and blushing beyond help. Then as the stranger speaks to him, Alvin can feel goosebumps tingling all over his body.

“What did you call me?” The hooded stranger says, his voice neither hostile, nor affectionate.

Alvin feels cornered and nervous, and yet bold and brave, so he looks at the stranger head on and smiles coyly.

“Jason. It’s your name, isn’t it?”

The stranger removes his right glove and a warm, rough hand suddenly runs up Alvin’s neck and chin, cupping his face in its palm. With his left hand, the stranger takes a firm hold of Alvin’s right wrist and pulls him in closer.

“Say it again.”

Alvin hesitates, but then leans in towards Jason’s hood and whispers,

“Jason.”

The stranger falls silent as Alvin tilts his head and reaches up for the stranger’s red hood. Slowly and ever so gently, he tugs underneath it, trying to find some kind of way to remove it from his face. The strangers make no attempt to stop him. Finally, after some thorough exploring, he clicks it open and removes the hood with trembling fingers. With the hood gone, Alvin feels his heartbeat quicken. It’s feels as if time and space no longer exists once he comes face to face with Jason’s bare face. They stare at each other intensely, neither uttering a word, when suddenly Jason caresses Alvin’s lips with his fingers and says,

“You hungry?”

“What?” Alvin’s face is almost hurting from his furious blushing, to which Jason only snickers, clearly enjoying the effect he has on him.

“Breakfast.” Alvin parts his lips a little as Jason’s finger lingers on his bottom lip. Then he bites into the tip of the finger, not intending to hurt, only play along. Jason gives him a knowing wink. “Or did you have something different in mind?”

“Am I that transparent?” Alvin lets go of Jason’s finger and leans back against the wall with a delighted grin on his face. “Just kidding, breakfast it is. _Obviously_.”

“ _Obviously_.” Jason mimics and raises an eyebrow suggestively, giving Alvin his best flirtatious smile. 

“Yes,” Alvin replies, a short laugh tagging along as he looks away, slightly embarrassed. “I mean it, really. Breakfast sounds great.”

They eye each other, sharing a moment of connection. If Alvin could drown in those eyes and never resurface, he definitely would. Alvin thinks for a minute, before he says,

“But don’t you need to finish up here first? I can wait.” He blushes and looks down.

“It finished the moment you got up on this roof.” Jason confesses casually and Alvin looks at him, surprised.

“Oh. You... You waited for _me_?” He sighs with relief, smiles and stares at Jason with new admiration.

“Well, yeah. I was watching you run...” He grins with embarrassment and looks away, before he continues in a barely audible whisper, “I was hoping to see you.” 

Alvin looks chocked at first, but is obviously flattered. Their faces grow closer as if they're about to kiss but then Jason pulls away. They’re silent for a moment before both of them laugh.  

“You like waffles, right?” 

“I do, yeah.” 

“Good. Let’s go then.” Jason says and backs off. He moves on in the direction Alvin had come from earlier. Alvin looks after him with longing and anticipation, his gaze lingering on Jason’s hands as they reach for the zipper on his leather jacket and pulls it up.

Alvin runs a sweaty hand through his damp hair and is just about to follow Jason, when he feels a hand on his bicep. He stops in his tracks, turns around and comes face to face with his Double. 

 ** _"Will you do something for me?”_**  

Alvin hesitates for a moment while eyeing his Double suspiciously. When he doesn’t provide an answer right away, the Double grabs him by his left wrist and pulls him in close. 

 ** _“_** ** _Tell him the truth.”_**   The Double’s eyes are wide, pleading. **_“All of it.”_**  

“Why him?” Alvin asks, his voice barely a whisper.  

 ** _“_** ** _You know why.”_** The Double seems so soft and vulnerable all of a sudden, almost human. He lets go of Alvin’s wrist and backs off.

 ** _“Now go. It’s rude to keep a date waiting.”_**    _'_

 

 _Cause if I want you, and I want you, babe  
_ _Ain't going backwards, won't ask for space  
_ _'Cause space is just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get too  
_ _Close_


	5. Beneath the Surface

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, I apologize for the long wait for this chapter update. Chapter 5, Beneath the Surface, is a milestone. It’s the longest chapter so far in this series and it’s very plot heavy. I’ve worked very, very, hard on this chapter and the plot revolving it. This chapter also contains a few answers to some of all your questions. I am very nervous and anxiously awaiting the response to this chapter. I hope you’ll enjoy it and find it interesting to read. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and supporting this fanfic. I got such a great response on chapter 4. Your comments make me so incredibly happy. I am truly grateful for each and one of you, for reading this fanfic and taking your time to write a word or two. It really encourages me to do better and better for every chapter. 
> 
> A big hug and thank you to my best friend and beta, champagneleftie, who makes such an amazing effort at perfecting my fanfic before publication. You’re so terrific, I am so grateful for your help with this fanfic and everything else… Thank you for always being there. <3
> 
> I also want to thank my friend, the wonderful and awesome BlueFlameBird. Thank you for continuing to push me and encourage me to work through this mess of a fanfic – and for reminding me of how English works lol. 
> 
> Finally, Anna, I dedicate Stephanie’s side story to you. It is written for you with you in mind. You’ve been so supportive and kind to me ever since we met. There is so much I want to tell you, but I’ll let the progression of this story show you how much you mean to me. Tack, min underbara sötpotatis. 
> 
> Chapter 3 Spotify Playlist Link:  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/chowayu/playlist/0BGkuQZlb7X6DVSZsPdVPm?si=0-N0wIK5QXuLko3yFFaZuw
> 
> Chapter 3 Playlist:  
> Lost & Found (The Midnight Remix) – The Midnight  
> Crazy in Love – Sofia Karlberg  
> High - Sivik  
> Ghoul – Nightstop  
> Isolated – Trevor Something  
> I’m Not in Love – 10cc  
> Let Me On Fire – Sarah Klang  
> The Loving Kind – Girls Aloud  
> Someone – Anna of the North  
> Call Your Girlfriend (Sultan & Ned Remix)– Robyn  
> That Good Night (Trentemoller Remix) – Howl Baby Howl  
> Dreams – ZHU, NERO  
> Feil – Bendik  
> Under Ytan - Loreen

**~*~**  
_**TIM/ALVIN**  
_**Song:** _Lost & Found (The Midnight Remix) – _The Midnight  
**Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey  
**Time:** 05:10 AM

The morning sun reflects brilliantly off the river as they get down on the ground. Jason leads them around the building, takes another left turn, then a right. They end up in an alley where a fancy motorbike is waiting for them. Jason can’t help but notice how Alvin approaches the bike with gathering awe, staring at it like it’s as magnificent as the Sistine Chapel.

“Nice bike. Vintage?”

“Yeah. You like motorcycles?” Jason reaches out and touches his bike lovingly. Alvin smiles nervously and nods his head, all while trying his best to act casual. Jason offers him a helmet, when he seems to suddenly get an idea.

“Get on. Front.”

Alvin looks at him confused.

“What?”

“You know how to drive a bike, right?”

“Kinda.” Alvin cautiously moves around the bike - admiring it, adoring it.

“Then let's go. It’s nice not having to drive for a change.”

Alvin puts himself in the front with Jason right behind him. He starts the bike and revs it. The bike screams as it peels out onto the empty highway. A low fog skims the sidewalks as they drive through the early morning harbor streets. Alvin speeds up, feels the boost. The rays from the morning sun almost blinds them, with thousands of white lights sparkling along the city skyscrapers.  The look on Alvin’s face suggests a supreme satisfaction, like he’s slowly re-awakening from a long  sleep. It all feels so fuzzy, slightly surreal.

After a ten-minute drive, the bike screams into the driveway of a diner. They come to a stop by the front door. It’s a discreet, anonymous diner with a cheesy sign that reads _“Diggle’s Bar and Diner”_ displayed proudly above. Jason hops off the bike and walks over to the entrance.

“You coming?” Jason asks while Alvin removes the helmet. He takes a moment to catch his breath before getting off the bike and hurries after.

The diner is dirty and more than a little run down. There are several empty tables, a lingering odor of last night’s beer and crushed pretzels on the floor. They sit down at a booth, and are offered coffee before they even get a chance to take off their jackets. Alvin taps his foot nervously as he chugs down his first cup of coffee. He sighs contently afterwards, while flipping through the menu. Another waitress arrives, she is practically beaming with joy at the sight of Jason. They obviously recognize each other.

“Hey Jay, what do you want today?” The waitress, an attractive woman in her early forties, asks as she shamelessly winks at Jason. “Lemme guess. Burger.”

“With fries.” Jason adds, winking back at her.

The waitress glances back and forth between Jason and Alvin with a suggestive expression on her face, then says,

“Sure. I’ll make that extra fries.” She discreetly writes down something on her small notepad, clearly amused. She turns to Alvin and refills his cup with hot, steaming coffee.

“And you, sugar, what will you have?”

“I’ll have the waffles, please.”

“Handsome and polite.” The waitress smiles at Jason, looking a bit coy. “What a catch.” 

Jason only rolls his eyes at the waitress’s comment and throws the menu at her. She laughs heartedly as she grabs the menu and turns to leave. Jason then proceeds to take out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He is just about to lit up a cigarette when Alvin plucks the cigarette out of Jason’s fingers. He drops it on the floor, crushing it with his right sneaker.

“Smoking’s bad for you.”

“Wow…it is? I had no idea.” Jason pretends to look shocked, but can’t hold back his amusement for long. He immediately takes out a new cigarette. Alvin only shakes his head, clearly disapproving of his actions.

“Seriously, it will kill you.”

“Last time I checked, 100% of nonsmokers die too.” Jason counters smugly, leaning back in his seat calmly. There is a look about him that tells Alvin not to push the topic further.

Alvin finishes his second cup of coffee and looks down, nervous to go on. Jason takes a deep drag of his cigarette and lets out in a white cloud of smoke. Alvin can’t help but look up from time to time to catch a glimpse of the other man. Jason has this roughness to him, bearing witness of hard times. He seems to be a man who has fought his way through life, and it’s intriguing to Alvin. It is so different in comparison to the people he usually hangs out with.

The waitress returns and drops their orders on the table. In front of Jason, a huge greasy burger dripping with cheese, along with a plate of fries. In front of Alvin, waffles.

“Thank god, finally. I’m starving.” Jason says.

Jason picks up his burger and takes a big bite, grease dripping onto the plate. Jason practically moans as he devours it. He makes it sound so obscene.

“Oh man, this is good. Here, you gotta try.”

“No thanks, I try not to eat red meat.” Alvin says, shaking his head while picking at his own food.

“You absolutely sure?” Jason says, his voice teasing as he shows off his burger.

“Just a small bite then.”

Alvin leans over the table and takes a small bite of Jason’s burger. As he bites into it, he gets a mouthful of onion rings, which drags the other crunchy toppings and condiments along with it. The finely shredded iceberg lettuce and dill pickles fall onto his plate of waffles. Of course it tastes absolutely fantastic. The flame-grilled beef patty is delicious with its char-grilled flavor. Jason only laughs at him.

“Okay, we’re ordering you a burger.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You may say that now but soon you’ll be asking for another bite. And then another.”

“I’m good. Besides, I need to eat my waffles.” Alvin laughs and digs into his waffles, scraping off the lettuce and dressing.

The waffles are airy and light, with a thin but crispy crust all around. They are fluffy and crunchy at the same time, with a hint of nutty richness from the brown butter. They are topped off with some sweet maple syrup and a bunch of fresh berries, making them irresistibly delicious to the very last bite.

“Here,” Jason sets his plates with fries in between them. “Have some.”

Alvin smiles at him and reaches out for a fry. It tastes too good. He takes another one, and a third. Mindlessly eating.

“Man, I love fries.”

“I know you do, but you always salt them too much.” Silence falls upon them as Jason realizes what he just said. He quickly tries to save the situation. “But who doesn’t, right?”

He looks up and catches Jason staring nervously at him, his eyes soft, a bit insecure. Alvin decides not reply to Jason’s comment. Instead, he removes his wind jacket before taking another sip of his coffee. It gives him time to think of another topic of conversation. 

“So, this night job of yours…” Alvin begins shyly.

“We shouldn’t talk about that here.” Jason replies quickly, his voice short and stern.

Alvin eyes Jason curiously, but before he can push the topic any further, the waitress returns. She refills their cups for a third time. She obviously feels the tension at the table and leaves the two of them alone again without asking about their food.

Alvin leans across the table to take a few fries. Jason follows his movements closely. His eyes settle on Alvin’s left arm as it reaches out for a handful of fries. Suddenly, he grabs Alvin’s wrist, pulling him in a bit too forcefully. He pulls back the fabric of the shirt, fully exposing Alvin’s skin. The sudden action startles Alvin.

“What is this?” Jason asks, while inspecting the tattoo on Alvin’s wrist. His’s fingers tremble as they trace over the tattoo. Judging by the frown on his face and the way his pupils are dilating, he is uncomfortable.

“It’s just a tattoo. I got it in Oslo.” Alvin replies, clearing his throat.

“But this date, man. Out of all possible fucking dates.” Jason stops himself, seeming extremely frustrated when he looks up. They stare  at each other in silence before Alvin answers him.

“Okay, look, I don’t actually remember getting this tattoo. But why are you so mad, I -”

“Bullshit. This is bullshit.” Jason shakes his head, getting up from his seat.

Alvin has no time to react before Jason heads towards the bathroom, leaving Alvin feeling lost and confused.

Alvin, confused and lost in his racing thoughts, looks to the side. His eyes settle on the window next to him on his left. He almost jumps in his seat, as in the glass’s reflection is the Double. They immediately make eye contact, acknowledging each other’s presence. Alvin reaches out his hand towards the reflection and presses it against window. However, the surface is not solid– It feels as if he’s pressing his hand against liquid glass.

“How can you do that?” Alvin asks quietly.

Like a child transfixed by a firefly, Alvin continues to stare at the liquid glass. The Double watches him knowingly, a wicked grin slowly appearing on his face. It unsettles Alvin. He looks at his Double warily, frightened.

**_“I’ll tell you. Come closer.”_ **

“Why?”

 ** _“Ssshh… lean in.”_** The Double whispers.

Without thinking clearly, Alvin complies. He leans in against the surface, rests his hand on the glass and shuts his eyes. There’s a sudden chill running through his body. When he re-opens his eyes, he sees that the room is bathed in a soft, warm mellow light. Everything and everyone appears to move in slow-motion.

Alvin’s about to remove his hand and move back, when he realizes that he’s frozen in place against the window. When he tries to speak, his voice is muffled.. As he looks back towards his reflection, he sees the Double eyeing him, intensely and smugly.

**_“My turn.”_ **

The last thing Alvin remembers before he blacks out, is how a hand emerges through the liquid glass, its nails painfully digging into his wrist, pulling him in.

 

~*~  
**_JASON  
_****Song:**   1)  _Crazy in Love –_ Sofia Karlberg  
2) High - Sivik  
**Location:** Diggle’s Bar & Diner, Gotham City  
**Time:** 06:30 AM

The bathroom door slowly creaks open behind him. A few seconds later, two hands grab a firm hold of his body, shoving him backwards against the cold tile wall with great force. When Jason looks up, he is met by two deep blue eyes looking back at him. At first, he wants to think it’s Alvin, but there is something different about him. He seems more confident, bolder. It’s in the way he holds himself, the way he smiles and eyes Jason like he’s his whole world.

“What is going on, Alvin?” Jason is runs a hand through his hair, while looking at Alvin with a mixture of concern, frustration and annoyance “I don’t understand any of this. First my name, now this tattoo…”

**_“Alvin’s not my name.”_ **

Jason doesn’t know how to respond to that. But it doesn’t matter, as before he can say or do anything, Alvin grabs Jason’s face and gives him a kiss on the lips. Jason is stunned. He gasps involuntarily at the unexpected kiss and looks down at Alvin in slight awe, his heart throbbing on the inside of his chest.

When they part, there is a moment of silence before Alvin’s fingers travel south. He begins to teasingly tug on inside of the waistband of Jason’s jeans. The thrill and excitement jump-starts Jason’s libido. He shudders at the sudden touch and looks at Alvin in confusion, trying to figure him out.

“Well, what do you prefer to be called then?”

Jason can feel Alvin’s breath on his skin. He smells of caffeine, sugar and sweat. Alvin leans in closer, only a few inches away from Jason’s lips. It sends shivers down his spine.

**_“I always had a thing for Timbers.”_ **

Jason instinctively pulls away. He tilts his head to one side and stares at Alvin for a few moments, before shaking his head in disbelief.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Fuck, I can’t do this. You’re obviously confused-”

 ** _“I never thought I’d see you again, Jay.”_** Alvin looks down, seemingly ashamed. He reaches out, his fingers wandering up under Jason’s t-shirt. He traces the toned muscles underneath the fabric, appears to savor the touch. **_“That’s why I got your birthday tattooed. So you’d always be with me.”_**

Jason catches himself holding his breath for what feels like an eternity. It’s as if his whole body goes numb and his heart stops beating. Then, he almost chokes on his own tongue when he opens his mouth and hears himself stutter out,

“Tim? Is it you?”

Tim seems to instantly sense how tense and rigid Jason is, so he does whatever first comes to mind to break the tension. He leans into Jason’s space, tilts his head so he can whisper into Jason’s ear.  

**_“It’s me, Jay. At least for now.”_ **

Tim kisses him again. Jason takes a deep breath when they part, but then he surprises himself by leaning back into it, not asking, just taking. Tim kisses him back with an intense hunger, full of adrenaline and lust, and opens his mouth for Jason as they kiss. Jason’s tongue explores Tim’s mouth, reveling in the heat that begins to grow between his legs. Tim presses his body against Jason’s and he can feel Tim’s erection pressing against him, the sensation of it making him dizzy. He’s almost afraid he’s going to wake up, that all of this is just another mindless dream of his like so many before.

Jason breaks the kiss and leans back a little, staring down at Tim who looks absolutely perfect with his lips swollen, cheeks all flushed and his expression a mixture between aroused, excited and confused. It turns Jason on way more than he’d like to admit. Tim’s eyes are oozing with boldness and bravado. He looks straight at Jason, grabbing a firm hold of Jason’s jacket, pulling him in so they are almost lips to lips again.

**_“You’ll savor this moment, won’t you? I don’t know when I’ll be able to do this again.”_ **

“Do what?”

**_“Just shut up and kiss me.”_ **

Jason pulls Tim in, their mouths smashing together forcefully. He takes a step forward while still kissing him, forcing Tim to move backwards until he comes to a halt before a stall. Tim, in turn, wraps his arms around Jason’s neck and tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss. Jason lifts Tim up in his arms and pushes him against the wall, making Tim moan into Jason’s mouth as his hands settle on Tim’s thighs. He holds him firmly in place and moves his thumbs up and down on the inside of Tim’s thighs. They part, and Jason licks his lips. He surprises himself when he opens his mouth and says,

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

Jason takes both of Tim’s hands in a tight grip and holds them above his head, pinning him against the stall’s wall using his lips. Jason’s other hand travel underneath Tim’s shirt across his chest. Tim moans into Jason’s mouth, his breathing altering between deep, heavy sighs and rapid snippets of air. He tastes so damn good, a mix of coffee and sugar. It’s both bitter and sweet, and suits him so well. Their mouths barely part, and Tim let’s his tongue tentatively stroke against Jason’s while he looks up into Jason’s eyes with a hungry, bright gaze. The way Tim looks at him is mesmerizing, it is so sensual. If his eyes could speak they’d whisper, _I want you._

Tim frees himself from Jason’s tight hold and lands on his feet. He grasps Jason’s chin with his right hand, deepening their kiss even further. He explores every part of Jason’s mouth, as if savoring each taste. His other hand travels south, his fingers trailing over Jason’s chest. Jason feels his toned muscles tighten to Tim’s light touch. He is so hard, his erection pressing against Tim’s stomach. Tim proceeds to teasingly play with Jason’s waistband. Jason bucks up against Tim’s hand, a shiver running through his body when Tim finally manages to unbutton the last button and then pulls down his flyer. Tim breaks off the kiss, leans back a little and whispers in a needy voice into Jason’s left ear.

**_“Let me taste you.”_ **

Jason only groans in response, his hand grabbing Tim’s hair and yanking him forward, bringing their mouths together once more. The kiss is cut off short as Tim pushes Jason backwards into the opposite wall, then slowly dropping to his knees in front of him.

“Are you sure?” Jason stutters, he _fucking stutters_. “We don’t need to rush -”

 ** _“Please,”_** Tim looks up at Jason with such pleading in his eyes, while his hand moves over to Jason’s bulge, teasingly caressing it, feeling it in the palm of hand. **_“I need this.”_**

Before Jason can answer, Tim’s tongue trails down Jason’s stomach, around his navel, swirling around it on his skin. He moves on and then looks up with a hungry, lustful gaze towards Jason – begging, pleading.

Jason finally gives in. He nods.

Tim pulls down Jason’s pants and his boxers. Jason’s erection springs free right in front of Tim’s face. Tim takes hold of Jason’s right hand and places it on the back of his head. His mouth drops open, and then he takes Jason’s dick into his mouth. Jason groans out loudly, gripping Tim’s hair tightly between his fingers and lets out a deep moan through his gritted teeth. Jason moans as Tim pulls him deeper into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tip of the shaft. Tim takes Jason’s dick as far as to the back of his throat, then back to the front again. He repeats the movement several times.

Jason feels like he is falling apart inside Tim’s hot mouth. Tim keeps on stroking Jason’s dick with his tongue in slow, erotic movements, quickly building up towards Jason’s climax.

“Tim, I’m getting close, you need to stop.” Jason breathes heavily, his eyes wide with need. Jason’s hands try to pull Tim away but Tim only pushes his hands away. Tim responds by sucking harder and harder, all in sync with Jason’s heavy panting. He is drinking in Jason’s taste and scent as Jason trembles intensely before him.

“I’m going to come in your mouth unless you stop-” And that’s when Tim looks up at him with his wide, bright, blue eyes. They are dark with lust and craving, and it’s all it takes to tip Jason over the edge. Jason explodes into Tim’s mouth, his body jerking as he comes undone and cries out Tim’s name.

Jason falls back against the wall, feeling weak in the knees and lets out a deep breath. He looks down towards Tim, and just the sight of him alone almost makes Jason want to get hard again. Tim’s hair is all messy from Jason’s grip. He has a hazy look in his eyes as he looks at Jason, cum dripping from his mouth. He looks so filthy and innocent at the same time, and it’s the most beautiful thing Jason has ever seen.

Jason’s hand grabs Tim by his shoulders and yanks him up from the floor, bringing their faces close. He leans in and kisses him. Tim tastes of musk, salt and cum – _of Jason_ – and Jason almost whimpers as Tim’s fingers touch his limp dick again.

 ** _“Was it as good for you as it was for me?”_** Tim whispers into Jason’s mouth. Jason licks his lips and wraps his arms around Tim’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Well, you certainly are full of surprises. I’ll give you that.”

“ ** _What? You thought I’d be bad at giving head?”_** Tim tilts his head a bit and smirks, looking very smug and pleased with himself.

Jason only laughs, his hand gently caressing Tim’s bare neck.  He leans in and kisses Jason’s lips lightly, almost grinning from ear to ear as he plays with the fabric of Jason’s fitted shirt.

Suddenly, Tim pulls back and puts a hand his head, looking hurt and in pain. His knees weaken and he grabs onto Jason for support, leaning into him. Jason wraps his arms around him, eyeing him with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

 ** _“Guess my time’s up for now.”_** Tim croaks out, before looking up and touching Jason’s face. 

“Tim, what -”

 ** _“Tell him I’m sorry. I just had to see you.”_** he says weakly, before he blacks out in Jason’s arms. Tim’s completely gone, almost as if lost within a deep slumber.

 

 **~*~**  
**17 MONTHS EARLIER**

 ** _TIM  
_****Song:** _Ghoul –_ Nightstop  
**Location:** Unknown  
**Time:** Unknown

_Darkness consumes him. It feels like he’s falling, deeper and deeper into nothingness. Suddenly, he comes to a halt against a cold, solid surface beneath his hands and feet. It’s completely silent except for a low hum, far off in the distance._

_Like an animal caught in a cage, Tim’s eyes dart around his new surroundings. His body doesn’t hurt at all, but he feels disoriented, dizzy. He gets to his feet and staggers around the room. He feels his way forward, slowly, and tries to get a grasp of the dimensions of where he is. His hopes of identifying the place falter as he continues to come to a stop in front of the same glass wall over and over again._

_Suddenly, a blinding white light brightens up the room. The light is so bright it almost burns his irises. Instinctively, he shuts his eyes and shies away from the light. Once he can open them  again, he comes face to face with his reflection in the glass. He is trapped in some kind of cell, with no visible entryway except for the glass wall._

_He walks over to the wall and bangs on the surface with his fists. It is hard, thick and solid._

_“Hello?”_   _Tim yells._

_“Mister Drake.” A deep, hollow voice echoes from the shadows as the owner partially hidden in a dark velvet cloak, emerges into the light.  He walks determinedly towards Tim’s cell. Tim doesn’t recognize the man nor his voice, which is low-pitched and deep, dominant and strong._

_“What a pleasure to have you join us.” The man comes to a stop just outside Tim’s cell. His upper body is broadly built. Ageing, well-worn hands hold firmly onto a staff, but apparently not for support, as the man’s posture is strong and proud. Tim can’t tellwhether the staff is a weapon, not from this distance._

_“I don’t understand – the missiles were primed. I can remember them hitting. Am I… Am I dead?” Tim asks and looks back at the stranger. His expression is a vacant expanse of confusion._

_“To those that loved you, yes. You certainly are.” The man chuckles deeply, sounding oddly amused. Tim looks at him for a long beat, analyzing whether or not the man is telling him the truth._

_“Tell me where I am!” He yells, anger and frustration boiling within him._ _“Stop playing games. You obviously know who I am.”_

_Tim's hands tremble as he aggressively throws a punch against the glass, but it doesn’t buckle an inch._

_“_ _I was trained by the greatest detective in the world. You won’t keep me in a cell forever. Let me go now, or you’ll regret it.”_

_Tim takes a deep breath and backs away, flexing his fingers so they won’t go numb. On his arm he suddenly sees numbers written in what appears to be black magic marker. Tim stares at them, confused._

_“There’s quite a bit of your mentor in you when you want there to be, isn’t there?” The hooded man says before he turns to leave._

_“This isn’t over!”_

_The mysterious man walks away and is consumed by the shadows in the distance. His voice echoes throughout the hall when he says,_

_“You’re right, Mister Drake. This isn’t close to over.”_

_All light vanishes from the room. Tim cannot see a thing in the dark. He falls to his knees, caressing his burning knuckles carefully._

_“My friends will come for me. Just you wait.” Tim whispers, suddenly feeling very alone. He has this need to repeat those words, not so much for his captor, but more for himself to assert some sort of hope._ _He cautiously rubs the numbers on his arm._

_“My friends will come.”_

**SEVERAL MONTHS LATER…  
Song:** _Isolated –_ Trevor Something

_In a dark, quiet room there are large screens showing electronically generated three-dimensional views of a human brain. Some of the screen are displaying color-coded neurological activity, with one in particular showing a specific section of the brain, cells flashing from yellow to red. The computer system hums as it shifts programs, the unusual brain image changing colors like flickering Christmas lights._

_Oz sits surrounded by his computers, monitors and keyboards.  Right next to him stands his daughter. Both of them look at the screens in silent contemplation. A peculiar diagnostic machine that scrutinizes data and images catches their attention. Oz turns in his chair and takes a quick look at the data they just received. He shakes his head, clearly disapproving of the results._

_“It’s progressing too slowly. We need to be more active.”_

_“We agreed to proceed with patience, father. We can’t force this to progress any quicker without causing harm.”_

_“Perhaps it’s a risk worth considering?”_

_The daughter ignores her father’s question and turns her attention towards the adjoining cell. Within the cell Tim lies on the floor, connected by a series of cables. There are several different kinds of pharmaceuticals being injected through an intravenous tube feeding into Tim’s right arm. At the console, Oz uses a pen to hit specific areas of the touch screen, changing the complex chemical symbols on display there._

_“Okay, but what if we reverse the feed?”_   _Oz asks._

_“You want to bring the replica into Tim’s mind? No, it's not happening. It could be damaging, fatal, for Tim.”_

_She checks the monitors displaying Tim's vital signs, before pressing some numbers on a keypad that opens the pressurized airtight glass door separating the two areas. At his console, Oz moves to another screen and opens up a new section which reveals two sets of elaborate neural monitors. They are exact duplicates, but one of them is not lit up._

_The woman proceeds to collect her notes while her father studies the screens intensely._

_“I don’t see the problem. Tim does it all the time.”_

_The daughter eyes her father with suspicion and concern as she speaks to him._

_“Dad. When Tim enters the replica’s mind, he’s in a controlled environment. More importantly, he’s in charge. We have no idea what would happen if we reverse the process.”_

_She walks over to the open doorway to enter the cell, but stops midway and looks back at Oz._

_“Look, if the replica comes willingly and Tim accepts it, then yes, it could work. But we both know that it takes months to build that kind of trust.”_

_“We don’t have months, honey.” Oz says flatly with little to no concern in his voice. His daughter only shakes her head and ignores him._

_The lights in the cell flicker on when she enters. She disconnects Tim from the apparatus and checks his pupil dilation, pulse and reflexes. His eyes are an emotionless void - it is oddly beautiful. She continues to poke and inspect him with a familiarity that would seem rude to an outside observer, but is nothing out of the ordinary to her._

_She detaches the last cables and eases Tim’s frail body into his bed. Making sure Tim is comfortable, she then covers him with a blanket and caresses his hair._

_Oz types in a command on his computer, before he gets up to join his daughter in the cell. When he enters he sighs, sounding slightly annoyed at the sight before him._

_“Don’t get attached. It will only hurt more once we move into the next phase.”_

_“But, dad, there's been progress. You’ve seen the scans. You should be pleased,” she says, turning in her seat to face her father straight on._

_“Hallucinations are not progress, honey. There is no proof the procedure works.”_

_“He’s alive. Isn’t that enough?”_

_“Like I said,” Oz pauses and rests a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. He squeezes it firmly. “Don’t get attached.”_ ****

_As soon as Oz leaves, Tim startles awake and looks up at the ceiling. He relaxes once he realizes Oz’s gone. The woman takes out a cigarette and lighter. She nods in Tim’s direction – offering him one, but he only shakes his head as a reply, looking slightly disgusted by the offer._

_“How are you feeling?”_

_“Okay, I guess.”_

_“I need to tell you something, Tim.” The woman looks slightly nervous as she lights up her cigarette and brings it to her mouth. She inhales deeply before turning to speak to Tim again._

_“You never smoke when you bring me good news. So, bad news, I presume?”_

_“My father intends to go ahead with the next phase of the procedure.” She smiles sadly his way, looks at him knowingly. She clearly knows more than she lets on. “I just thought you should know."_

_“Well, I don’t have much of say in the matter, do I?” Tim pulls himself up and leans back on his elbows as he looks directly at her. “Unless you can get me out of here.”_

_“Tim, you know the risks..” She pauses and takes another deep drag of her cigarette. As she breathes out a cloud of smoke, her features change, harden. “It’s too dangerous.”_

_Tim nervously looks down at his hands, clenched fists. They are shaking. He's furious, much more furious than he lets on. He takes deep, even breaths, making sure he has his emotions under control._

_“They’re not coming, are they? My friends?”_

_The woman looks away, guilt flashing across her features as she gets up from the bed. She gives Tim’s shoulder a light pat before she leaves towards the door. As she reaches the exit, she stops and stands still for a second or two, before looking back at Tim. He runs a sweaty hand through his hair, trying to appear collected and calm as he eyes his female captor, who says,_

_“Do you need hope or do you want the truth?”_

_Tim ponders his answer for a minute, then answers,_

_“Truth.”_

_The woman throws her cigarette on the floor, crushing it with her shoe, before she looks up again. When their eyes meet, she looks genuinely saddened. Her eyes water up as she speaks._

_“Your funeral was a month ago. I’m so sorry.”_

 

 **~*~  
****_JASON  
_****Song** : _I’m Not in Love_ – 10cc  
**Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey  
**Time:** 7:58 AM

The hotel lobby is bright and spacious, filled with newly arrived guests and piles of luggage. Even at this this early hour there is a great deal of activity. Older men in business suits and parents with hyperactive kids are quickly queuing up at the front desk. Meanwhile, Tim is resting in Jason’s arms as he carries him across the lobby towards the elevator.

Inside the elevator, a young elevator operator is waiting for them. She is  dressed in a clean, formal blue uniform that seems just a bit too tight. As the elevator doors close, she nods toward Jason.

“Good morning, sir. Which floor?” The operator asks, while glancing suspiciously at the resting man in his arms. Tim, in turn, only tightens his hold of Jason’s neck. “Is everything alright with him?”

“Yeah, he’s fine.” Jason looks down at Tim’s room key in his right hand. “Fifth floor?”

“Of course, sir.”

When Jason and Tim exit the elevator, they’re in dimly lit hallway which leads down towards a large doorway with two heavy, wooden doors.  Jason hurries over, pulls out the key and unlocks the door to the hotel room. The doors slide open automatically in unison.  Once they’re inside the room, the doors close behind them.

When Jason steps into the room, he’s rendered speechless. In front of him is a sunken living room with massive windows revealing the sparkling lights of the city below. How Tim can afford this is beyond him. He makes his way down the steps to the living room and walks over to the couch. Carefully, he puts Tim down. He sits down in a comfortable chair opposite the couch and leans back. When asleep like this, Tim’s bratty, smart-ass attitude is gone. Instead, he has this sweet look all over him – it’s gentle, young and soft...

Tim mumbles something, barely audible to Jason’s ears.

**_“Don’t leave me.”_ **

His heart pounds as he feels a tremor from the inside, feels it building up and coming at him like a riptide. Tim’s words hit him hard, like a tidal wave. It hurts because he knows can’t fight this. His memories and feelings of Tim surrounds him, breaks down on him, sweeps him off his feet. He’s back at Tim’s grave. He sees the cross, the forget-me-nots - it all comes crashing down on him.

It had been safe to grow close to a Tim that was no more, but this new situation just got very complicated. Normally, Jason doesn’t do complicated and the old Jason would have retreated back into his turtle shell of somber, comforting loneliness. But now, his feelings for Tim are  crushing him, drowning him in a whirlpool of desires, hopes and dreams.

He can hardly outrun the feelings he’s developed. He sure as hell can’t escape the memories. No matter how brave he is or how hard he tries to keep his cool, he knows deep down that he’s spent almost two years developing anew bond to the man now sleeping on the couch. He realizes this is a current he won’t fight. He is way past the light breeze of infatuation. He’s already overwhelmed. So he submerges into the depths of those dangerous thoughts that are commonly known as _what ifs_ and _maybes._  

Once he’s calmed down, he feels breathless and restless - all wrung out.

Jason puts away his phone and glances back up at Tim. Or is it Alvin right now? He doesn’t know. Only one thing’s for certain in this raging storm: he’ll get Tim out of it, one way or the other.

Jason stares at Tim’s sleeping form for a moment longer, before he picks up his phone and types a message. 

 **[07:32AM Jason:** We need to talk. **]**

 **[07:35AM B:** What is it?]

 **[07:32AM Jason:** It’s about Tim. **]**

 **[07:35AM B:** Meet me at the Manor. Asap. **]**

 

 **~*~**  
_**ALVIN/TIM**  
_

Alvin opens his eyes and sees Jason sitting in the living room chair, typing something on his phone. The sun is setting, it’s late in the afternoon. He hears vacuuming coming from outside the door. It slowly dawns upon him that they’re back at his hotel, and he can’t help but wonder why or how they ended up here. The last thing he remembers is eating waffles at the diner. Jason had grown frustrated with him and left, then the window had acted weird and the Double-

_The Double._

Alvin closes his eyes and breathes in and out in a steady rhythm, trying his best to remain calm. He feels goosebumps all over his skin as he slowly realizes that he has no recollection whatsoever of the past hours. All he knows is that his head hurts, his jaw aches and his clothes smells of sex. A part of him wants to demand answers, while another is petrified of what those answers might entail.

There’s a sudden discreet knock on the door. Jason gets up from the chair and hurries over to the door and opens it. A waiter and a cart appears in the doorway. Jason steps aside and points the waiter in the direction of the dining table. As the Waiter wheels in a table of food and coffee, Jason puts on his jacket. He looks ready to leave. 

Alvin hazily sits up and gets to his feet, standing uncertainly in the middle of the room. He stares in silence at Jason’s back, unsure of what to say or do. A hundred questions are racing through his mind. His pulse is quickening, his eyes watering up. His throat is all dry, making his voice sound all hoarse and weak when he speaks out.

“Are you leaving?” Alvin asks, running a hand through his messy hair. “I feel a bit confused about why we’re here. Can’t you stay? I really need to talk -”

“No.” Jason cuts him off abruptly, his voice sounding a bit off and distant. He doesn’t even look in Alvin’s direction when he speaks. “I need to get moving.”

“Where are you going?” When Jason doesn’t reply, Alvin tries again. “Did something happen? Between us?”

As the waiter pours a glass of sparkling water and sets the table for one, Jason opens the door once again. He stops midway and turns, finally facing Alvin.

“Look, I don’t know what is happening here but for what it’s worth...” He says, their eyes meeting for a brief second. “He’s sorry.”

Before Alvin can answer, Jason is gone. The automatic door closes and the waiter pulls out a chair by the table.

“Dinner for one, sir.”

 

~*~  
**_TIM/ALVIN  
_ Song(s): **1 _) Let Me On Fire –_ Sarah Klang  
2) _The Loving Kind –_ Girls Aloud  
**Location:** Stephanie’s apartment **,** Gotham City  
Time: 05:03 PM

Heavy rain clouds linger over the city as Alvin stands outside Stephanie’s apartment building, carrying a bunch of daisies wrapped in cellophane. He’s been staring nervously at the buzzer for ten minutes. Right next to it, written in tiny, elegant letters, is _Stephanie Brown, 4B_.

Part of him wants to make bolt for it and forget all about this, while another part eagerly wants to press the button and head upstairs. So here he is, awkwardly and patiently awaiting some sort of sign that will finally push him to press the buzzer.

So it’s no longer a surprise to him when he feels his hand move on its own towards the button. He knows it’s the Double before he the tingling sensation even makes itself known throughout his body. His finger presses firmly and determinedly onto the buzzer.

There’s no response.

He practically heaves out a deep sigh of relief, but then he sees the Double standing right next to him, looking stern and disappointed. Alvin tries his best to avoid the presence of the other, still upset about the events of the other morning. He knows the Double has tried to reach out on several occasions, but Alvin has actively ignored all of his attempts at reconciling. So it surprises him greatly when the Double, who is normally so patient with him, finally snaps. The Double grabs Alvin by his collar and pushes him up against the front door, almost growling.

**_“You got her the wrong flowers.”_ **

“You said ‘bring flowers’. These are flowers.”

**_“She’s allergic to daisies.”_ **

Alvin can’t help but laugh at that. He really didn’t want to buy the flowers in the first place. He had resisted the Double’s pestering and nagging all morning. In the shower, at the breakfast buffet, on the subway… He’d finally given in, gone back to the shop around the corner and bought a bouquet. Once he’d paid for it, the Double had finally left him alone – until now.

Alvin only rolls his eyes at the Double and presses the buzzer again, and a clogged voice comes through on the intercom.

_“Who is it?”_

“Hi, Steph? It’s Alvin.”

_“Come on up! I’m almost done.”_

The door unlocks and the Double motions impatiently for Alvin to enter. As he walks through the door, Alvin makes sure to look at the Double one last time before he flips him off. The Double’s facial expression is full of annoyance. Alvin only grins in return as he heads up the stairs.

Once on the fourth floor, Stephanie welcomes Alvin in her pajamas in the doorway. The door is slightly ajar and Alvin can hear music coming from inside the apartment. Stephanie is in a pair of sweatpants and a pink T-shirt with a worn Sailor Moon print all over it, her hair loose and messy.    

“You’re early.”

“And you’re not done yet.” Alvin chuckles to himself as he hands over the bouquet of daisies. “Here, these are for you.”

Stephanie has this confused expression on her face as she looks back and forth between the wrapped flowers and Alvin, unsure of what to do or say. She unwraps the paper around the flowers. 

“Wow, daisies.” Stephanie says, sounding slightly amused as she plays with the petals. “You know, I’m actually -”

“Allergic. Yeah, sorry about that.”

“It’s not a date, so no harm done.” She winks at him before stepping aside, allowing for Alvin to enter. “Come on in. The place is a mess, but so am I.”

Stephanie heads over to the kitchen sink and puts the daisies in a salmon pink vase. She fills it with cold water before placing it in the sink, leaving it there as she excuses herself and disappears into the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Alvin takes a look around. That the place is a mess turns out to be a grave understatement. There are dirty dishes and unopened mail, and piles of clothes cover the tables and chairs. Freshly washed sheets hang from open windows. 90’s band posters share wall space with candid family photos, while a scuffed yearbook lays on the floor by the bathroom door, acting as a doorstop and collecting dust. The whole apartment is in a state of early post-adolescence while still clinging on to the safe familiarity of teenage years.

He heads over to the sink in search of a glass and finds one in the second cabinet. After filling it with water, he digs into his pockets and grabs his pill chart, pops out a pill and swallows it with a gulp of water. As Alvin puts away his meds, he notices Stephanie’s computer on the kitchen counter.  A popular pop song plays on Spotify, and as he takes a closer look he sees that her playlist is called _Steph’s and Tim’s infinite playlist_. Alvin decides not to linger on it. Instead, he backs away and heads over to the couch, ignoring the feeling of unease in his chest.

Just as he seats himself on the couch, Stephanie reappears and walks over to the hallway mirror. As she inspects herself, she’s admiring and critiquing the curves of her hips, the width of her shoulders, the pimple on her chin. Leaning close to her reflection, she puts on another layer of foundation in an attempt to cover it up. Alvin clears his throat as he gets up from the couch.

“That’s a very nice dress.”

“Thanks, it’s from Zara.”

“Cool, this hoodie is from Zara.” Alvin zips up his jacket and pulls the hoodie over his head. “But their sizes are a bit off.”

“I know right? All their sizes are so damn small.” Stephanie turns around, closely inspecting the way the wrap dress makes her silhouette stand out. The dress is feminine and sexy, with its slim, stretchy fit and deep, sweetheart neck. She adjusts her dress before moving a lock of blonde hair across her forehead - finessing its placement. Alvin smiles at her attention to details, he can relate to the want of perfecting every single inch of oneself for a night out.

Stephanie turns towards him and he gives her two thumbs up while grinning.

“Looking good. So, are we ready to go?”

“Lead the way, wingman.”

**~*~**

Jags, a black Ferrari and two BMW's pack the circular driveway behind them as Alvin and Stephanie stumble out of the taxi. They see large groups of people crossing the road, joining the growing crowd outside the entrance to the indoor arena. Just as their taxi leaves, another limo pulls up to the sidewalk behind them. The limo driver leaps out of the car and holds the door open for the arriving guests. Alvin grabs Stephanie’s arms, pulls her aside and discreetly nods his head in the limo’s direction.

“Look, it’s Guetta.”

Stephanie stares at the older man as he exits the white limousine with a gorgeous woman in tow. He doesn’t look like a pop star or a model, but he has an insanely attractive expression on his face that can only be described as unrestrained glee, full of excitement and expectation.

“Guetta who?”

The club doorman, seeing the limousine, unhooks the velvet rope and welcomes David Guetta and his female friend inside. Alvin just stares after them in awe, feeling star struck, before he wraps an arm around Stephanie’s shoulders.

“You’re joking, right? He’s only one of the most famous music producers alive, as well as an internationally celebrated EDM DJ.”

“What’s EDM?”

Alvin rolls his eyes in disbelief and pulls her in closer, she almost leans onto him as they walk towards the entrance. Stephanie holds onto Alvin’s jacket for support, trying her best to walk in her new heels without falling over.

Loud music thuds through the open doorways as they enter the arena. A female attendant in a black-and-white uniform inspects their tickets and points them in the direction of the main stage. A group of trashed-looking girls pass them by as they head down the hallway, their obnoxious laughter bouncing off the walls like an echo in the song.

Once they enter the arena, they are met by brilliant white light. A large beacon on the main stage lights up the center of the room and is met by a growing roar from the seething crowd. Hundreds and hundreds of people, all having a huge night, stretch their yearning hands towards the DJ on stage. The sea of fans keeps on shouting, cheering and laughing, as the DJ moves on with his tracks, now playing his latest hit.

There are almost as many men as women in the arena. Catering waiters serve canapés on silver trays while bartenders work tirelessly with the incoming armada of thirsty partygoers. Along the walls, well-dressed professionals, journalists and crews stand in clusters, chatting and reporting on the developments of the evening.

Amidst all the chaos, Alvin suddenly spots one of his colleagues and tries his best to catch his attention but to no avail. He turns to Stephanie and gives her an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, but I gotta work now. Maybe you can wait in the bar for a while? I’ll try to make this quick.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” Stephanie says and waves him off. Alvin nods and gives her a smile, before he turns around and heads over to his colleague.

****

**_~*~  
_****_STEPHANIE  
_ Song(s): **_1) Someone_ – Anna of the North  
2) Call Your Girlfriend (Sultan & Ned Remix) – Robyn  
**Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey  
Time: 06:15 PM

The clientele of tonight’s party is young, wealthy and confident.  A group of loud and obnoxious young men stand in Stephanie’s way as she approaches the bar. Three of them are taking shots while singing along to the current hit song blasting out from the arena. The men look bratty and spoiled, all of them wearing expensively cut suits with slicked-back hair. Young, beautiful women are draped over the men, who wear them like accessories. She tries twice to unsuccessfully maneuver through the company of men and women, before she retreats and eyes her surroundings for a calmer spot to wait for Tim. She is wandering around aimlessly when she finally sees the stairs to the upper floors. She heads over there immediately.

When Stephanie reaches the upper floors, she immediately removes her heels. She lets out a deep sigh of relief as she flexes her feet back and forth in circular motions, regaining the blood flow throughout her feet.

Once more relaxed, she’s stuck by the calm and emptiness of the upper hallway. A few guests are having private conversations while they look through the spectator windows at the dance floor and the party below. She glides along the floor of the hallway in her stockings, her heels in her left hand. Her eyes fall a beautiful, long curtain. She heads over to it and twists herself in the velvet drape like it’s a gown. She acts in the windows like she looks gorgeous, but she looks ridiculous. She slips and falls back and lands on her bum.

She hears laughter from behind and as she turns to look around, she comes eye to eye with this gorgeous woman. She is strikingly beautiful, with perfect, even features, dark brown, short curls falling freely down her face, and a curvy young body. Stephanie can’t help but undress the woman with her eyes, transfixed by her glamour and mystery.

The woman, in return, gives her a knowing look as she walks over to Stephanie, offering her a hand. When their eyes meet up close, there is instant chemistry. Stephanie’s so busy drinking in the woman’s handsomeness that when she’s about to get to her feet, she instead pulls the woman in. The woman awkwardly tumbles on top of Stephanie.

“Shit, this is so awkward!” Stephanie says and looks away shyly, desperately voiding the other woman’s eyes. “I mean, I’m so awkward. You’re gorgeous. Fuck, I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”

The woman only laughs at Stephanie’s rambling and looks at her with great amusement, before getting to her feet. She grabs Stephanie’s hand and pulls her up. They look at each other in silence before the woman finally speaks up, her voice is strong, with a deep, sensual and soothing tone.

“I’m Faye.”

“Stephanie”.

“Lovely name for a lovely girl.” Faye says, her voice sending shivers down Stephanie’s spine. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Stephanie blushes and awkwardly avoids the woman's gaze, before nodding her head ever so slowly and discreetly.

“Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

Faye beams with joy as she grabs Stephanie’s wrist and leads her down the stairs. Once downstairs again, they push through the dancing crowd towards the bar. When they are at the counter, Stephanie notices it's a cash-only bar. Without asking her first, Faye orders them drinks. The bartender complies and returns almost immediately with two glasses. One mojito, one cosmopolitan.

“That'll be twenty-five dollars.”

Faye pulls out an expensive-looking Mulberry wallet and hands her a $50. The bartender turns her back and searches the cash register for change, while Faye picks up their drinks and gently hands over the cosmopolitan to Stephanie. As their fingers brush against one another, Stephanie can’t help but notice Faye’s perfect red fingernails. Stephanie takes a sip of her drink. There’s a piece of orange peel in it Its sweet essence hides the strength and strong scent of the vodka. It's really good, too good even. She takes another sip.

The bartender gives Faye her change impassively. Faye looks down at her glass, not yet drinking. Instead, she stirs in her drink with a finger, then sucks on it. She does the same again, but this time she holds out her finger to Stephanie, as if asking for her to suck off the liquid.

“Do you want a taste?"

Without thinking, Stephanie nods her head. Ever so gently and slowly, Faye’s finger lingers across Stephanie’s bottom lip. She teases her with the fingertip.

“Say _pretty please_.”

Stephanie blushes furiously. The way Faye speaks and looks her way completely clouds Stephanie’s perception of reality. She feels like she’s in a dream, the other woman’s presence intoxicating her. The inconvenient mixture of nerves, alcohol and deep arousal get to her head. Faye looks pleased with herself as her finger gently presses down on Stephanie’s bottom lip, asking for permission to enter her mouth. Stephanie can’t help herself.,

“Pretty please…” she stutters, and she is just about to give Faye access when suddenly, Faye pulls away. She looks slightly shocked, as if she didn’t expect Stephanie to comply. She takes a big but elegant gulp of her drink, puts down her glass and moves in closer into Stephanie's space. Her face is only inches away from Stephanie’s. A strange feeling of intimacy builds up between them as Faye leans in and whispers in Stephanie’s ear,

“I have a homework assignment for you.” And Faye leans back so she can look Stephanie in the eyes. She seems to know damn well the effect she has on Stephanie.

“A what?” Stephanie almost stutters. Faye smiles contently as she reaches up and grabs Stephanie’s jaw in her hand, holding her in place. She leans in so their lips almost touch.

“Go home and masturbate thinking of me."

Faye squeals with laughter as she leans back. Stephanie laughs in shock, and in doing so, loses a bit of her nerve. She is flustered, blushing a deep shade of crimson and feeling slightly scandalized while she looks at Faye’s mouth. She takes a deep breath of courage and counters,

“You’re not very subtle, are you?”

“No, subtle is boring.” Faye says as she smoothly sets her drink down on a passing tray. She reaches out and touches Stephanie’s hands, gently moving her fingers across the skin, slowly entwining their fingers. Stephanie looks down at Faye’s hands, shyness again belting her a good one. She knows she is seconds away from being swept away completely by the woman in front of her. It terrifies and excites her immensely.

Faye reaches out to touch Stephanie’s chin. She caresses the soft skin with her fingertips.

“You want to dance, Stephanie?”

Stephanie nods her head and receives a flirty smile in return. Faye leads her into the crowded arena and starts moving through the sea of dancers. Stephanie follows her through the press of bodies.

Once they stop, it’s as if everything around them starts to slow down, almost imperceptibly. Faye looks directly at Stephanie, dancing only for her. Her movements take on a blatantly erotic edge as the music fades into a dreamy, hypnotic beat. All the people around them disappear entirely from Stephanie’s field of vision. Faye starts to seductively move her hands down her hips, teasing Stephanie with an expression that's both innocent and knowing. She smiles at her, obviously fully aware of the powers she has over her, while Stephanie is mesmerized. Spellbound.

Their eyes are on each other as they move, their movements growing tighter, hotter. Faye moves a step towards her and reaches out, her hand stroking Stephanie’s face. They are holding each other's gaze, their eyes digging into each other.

Then their lips are brushing against each other. Stephanie leans in close Faye’s face, her tongue in the other’s mouth as she kisses her. The kiss is tender and yet full of heat and intense intimacy. They are melting into each other. As their bodies press into each other, the kiss deepens. Stephanie’s hands move down Faye’s body, settling on her waist and pulls her in, holding her in place.

Faye moves her hands underneath Stephanie’s wrap dress, under her panties. Stephanie whimpers in response, a light moan escaping her lips as Faye teasingly runs her hands across Stephanie’s sensitive inner thighs. Stephanie moves her hands to Faye’s chest and cups her breasts through her dress, her fingers gently teasing the nipples through the soft fabric. They devour each other, unable to hold back right there on the dance floor. When they part, Stephanie moans.

“Fuck, you taste heavenly.”

“And here I was hoping for fresh and minty.” Faye laughs jokingly as she leans in and kisses Stephanie’s neck. “But heavenly works just fine too.”

****

**_~*~  
TIM/ALVIN  
_****Song(s):**  1 _) That Good Night (Trentemoller Remix) – Howl Baby Howl_  
2) Dreams – ZHU, NERO  
**Location:** Gotham City, New Jersey  
Time: 07:30 PM

Through the glass ceiling, the moonlight casts a soft glow over the arena. Alvin ventures into its expanding sea of bodies in search of Stephanie. People dance hazily along to the rhythm of the beat, slowly and sensually grinding against each other. As he maneuvers around a drunk company of fraternity youths, a hand grabs hold of his right bicep and pulls him backwards. The force twirls him around, and Alvin comes face to face with his Double. Alvin’s immediate response is to instinctively push him away, glaring at the Double’s smug, bratty expression as he does so.

**_“Someone’s not in the mood.”_ **

“Just leave me alone.” Alvin shakes his head, evidently very annoyed by the presence of the other. “I don’t need you meddling with my life tonight.”

They stare at each other for a while, until the Double grows restless and grabs Alvin's hand. The headlights from the main stage shine through the moving bodies as the Double forcefully pulls Alvin along, leading them further into the crowd. They keep walking, sticking close to each other, as they move deeper and deeper into the crowd. When they finally stop, the Double turns and pulls Alvin closer, the tension rising as their bodies touch.

“I just don’t get this.” Alvin motions between them. “What do you want from me?”

They breath in unison. Rising and falling together. The Double hesitates, and looks away as he opens his mouth to speak.

**_“I want to help you.”_ **

“Help yourself, you mean.” The Double looks back at Alvin, surprise lingering over his features as Alvin crosses his arms over his chest, looking defiant. “I'm doing my best here, trying to understand all of this. I know there’s more to this, I’m not stupid, so -”

The Double interrupts him by shushing him with a finger to his lips. Alvin only rolls his eyes in annoyance as a response. 

**_“Look, all I know is that you control me. Without you, I’ll be left all alone. If you only knew how much I’ve suffered-”_ **

Alvin grabs the Double by the collar and pulls him in closer, their mouths so close they’re almost kissing. Alvin hisses when he speaks.

“How much _you’ve_ suffered?” He lets out a mean laugh. “Let me remind you, you’re the one who’s been fucking with my head, my life -”

The Double slaps him right across the face. When Alvin touches his jaw, it burns.

**_“You stole my life, my body! Do you know how it feels to idly stand by and watch as some pretender lives your life?”_ **

“Fuck you, _Tim_.” Alvin sneers at the Double and practically yells out his next words. “Why can’t you just stay dead like normal people do?”

Tim says nothing at the mention of the name, yet in his eyes, there’s an obvious flash of hurt. Remorse immediately fills Alvin, and he feels a painful stab of guilt to his heart. He looks away, breathes deeply.

When he looks back towards Tim, he sees how he is watching their surroundings warily. His eyes are cold, frightened and focused, staring intensely to his right. Something is on his mind. Something is wrong.

“What is it?”

**_“We’ve got company.”_ **

“What?”

Tim leans forward, wraps his arms around Alvin’s waist and pulls him in. Alvin doesn’t resist this time, instead he eyes Tim with growing concern as the other whispers in his ear, his voice almost shaking.

  ** _"T **h** ey’ve found us. The Shadows. They look like people you know, people you trust... “_**

 Alvin nods his head, confirming that he understands Tim’s rambling.  Tim sneers towards his right - listening. They wait. There’s nothing out of the ordinary there, and yet Tim looks frightened.

**_“They will follow us now. They are slow, but they are not dumb.”_ **

“What are you on about? There’s nothing there.”

Suddenly, everything goes darker. The distant music slowly warps, returns but sounds distorted. The room goes quiet, still. The bodies around them stop moving, as if frozen in time. Then there's a shuffling sound from behind them. Alvin turns around and watches - puzzled and scared – as a shadowed figure emerges from the distance, slowly walking towards them through the crowd. It is still far away, but creeps along, staring at them. Tim is fidgeting, as if he’s ready to run any second.

**_“I think he’s intentionally making them look like people we love just to hurt us.”_ **

“You’re seriously not just fucking around with my mind right now? I need my meds-”

**_“Your medication won’t help. It never has. They're placebos.”_ **

Alvin is shocked. His hands tremble as he lets the revelation sink in. Before he can ask anything else, there’s a soft cry coming from the Shadowy figure from across the room. Alvin focuses completely on it as it slowly takes the shape of an approaching girl.  A half-naked young woman, with a slight resemblance to Stephanie, walks towards him. Small steps. She's missing her two front teeth, and has dark circles around her eyes. Bare feet, rugged clothes. Her face is obscured by flowing hair.  All that is visible is a pair of cold, staring green eyes. She looks immodest and vulgar. Alvin chokes on a scream and starts backing away.

 ** _“Let me take over.”_** Tim says and tries to reach out to touch Alvin’s face, but Alvin pushes his hand away, rejecting his advances. The woman approaches slowly, nearing them patiently. They can hear her breathing.

**_“You must let me help. This is too dangerous. Trust me-”_ **

“But see, that’s the problem.” Alvin cuts him off and rolls his eyes, glaring at him angrily. “I can’t trust you, can I?”

Tim seems to hesitate, unsure of what to say or do next. Before he can answer, there's loud pounding on the front door, and the banging is only getting louder. Alvin steps away from Tim and peeks up toward the ceiling windows. He sees a large group of emerging shadows looking down at him through the glass. He shuffles uncomfortably and slowly to the side – trying to get out of sight - when there's another loud pounding on the door behind them.

**_“Listen, I really want to help you.”_ **

“You only care because you want your body back!” Tim looks saddened by Alvin’s words. “Admit it! You don’t give a damn about me or my life.”

Suddenly, Alvin feels a chilling breath on his neck. Something is behind him. He turns and steps backwards, and comes face to face with the shadow figure. It doesn’t move an inch. An invisible force is pulling at Alvin’s leg. He falls backwards, landing on his back and hitting his head. He curses under his breath as he crawls and stumbles, trying to get away from the advancing Shadow. Tim looks on in horror, runs forward and helps Alvin up. He pulls him towards the exit, backing away from the Shadow and the center of the arena – seemingly terrified and unsure how to proceed. The gap between them and the thing widens, but it keeps coming.

Once at the doors, Alvin pulls the front door handle. It doesn’t work. They are locked in. Tim grabs Alvin’s hand in his and tries to get his attention, but before he can do anything else, the door shakes as it is hit again, the banging getting louder. The two of them stumble backwards. Alvin watches as the foot kicks out a medium chunk of paneling from the bottom of the door, before disappearing again.

Suddenly, a Shadowy creature crawls through the hole, screaming an ice cold, high-pitched scream. Alvin and Tim take a few steps backwards. Something grabs hold of Tim’s arm. In that second, Tim’s and Alvin’s eyes meet. Alvin looks apologetic, sorrowful, as the Shadow grabs, lifts and slams Tim onto the floor. The back of Tim’s head hits the floor first. He is then pushed violently across the room - landing against the wall on the other side of the room, collapsing on the floor.

Alvin hesitates for a moment, unsure what to do. He feels exhaustion and fear as he decides to run over to Tim’s fallen form. In the distance, the shadow figures start to walk towards them again.

As Alvin takes Tim’s weak body in his arms, Tim looks up at him and whispers in a low, sad voice, barely audible to anyone but Alvin himself.

 ** _“I’m sorry for being such an ass.”_** Tim says, pushing himself away from Alvin. He tries his best to get to his feet again. Alvin doesn’t know whether Tim is brave or stupid, as he turns as says,

**_“You need to get out of here. Now.”_ **

The shadow throws itself at Tim in an instant, straddles him, and pins his arms behind his back. He's unable to move. The shadow wraps its hands around his neck and presses its fingernails into his flesh. Tim throws Alvin a worried look and yells at him,

**_“Go!”_ **

Alvin hesitates for a second, before quickly stumbling to his feet, running towards the back door entrance. He moves with urgency and primal fear through the frozen bodies, trying his best to navigate in the dark. When he looks back as he runs, he sees how the Shadow’s hands clamps shut around Tim’s neck, pinning him to the floor, and how Tim passes out.

He hurls himself at the door, almost falling over into the street as it opens with ease. Not once does he stop and look back, he keeps on running as if every step he takes if a matter of life or death. A few streets down, he finally slows down, stops and turns towards the way he came. He is standing in the center of the street, alone. The street lightscast ghostly shadows across the place. A late night mist flows over the pavement. It's quiet. Too quiet. Alvin stares ahead and sees something move. Instinctively, he starts to back up. One step, then another, steadily and slowly, tracking backwards. He constantly remains focused, his eyes looking straight ahead.

Nearby, a young woman, pulling a stroller with a baby, notices Alvin walking in the middle of the street. She steps towards the sidewalk.

“Hey, are you ok?” She looks and sounds concerned.

Alvin is startled, but slowly nods to the woman.

“You need some help?”

When Alvin doesn’t respond, the woman shrugs and turns away. Alvin continues stepping backwards, still staring ahead.  Focused. Terrified. He reaches into his back pocket and grabs his cell phone. He's nearly crying as he holds the phone to his ear and hears the signal going through once, twice –

 _"Hello?”_ Jason’s voice says on the other end.

“Jason, help us…” Alvin’s voice cracks, he sobs. “I can’t feel him anymore.”

 

 **~*~  
** **12 MONTHS EARLIER**

 ** _TIM  
_****Song:** _Feil - Bendik_  
**Location:** Unknown  
**Time:** Unknown

_When he opens his eyes, he’s once again locked up in his small cell. There is a low electronic hum in the distance, the noise rhythmic, ambient. He feels groggy and sick where he’s lying in fetal position on the cold, concrete ground. He is very thin, more thin than usual. The skin on his chest stretches tautly over his sternum, sinewy muscles contract as he breathes._

_A drop of water slowly gathers at the tip of the nearby faucet. A flash of light refracts through it just before the drop falls._

_Drip._

_Another drop of water gathers and falls into the metal sink basin filled with water._

_Drop._

_And then another, each drop rippling in concentric circles.  The steady rhythm of the falling water drops act as a sedative, its sound calming, soporific. Tim watches the dripping water with a dullness in his eyes, as if hypnotized. But underneath that tranquil and still façade lurks months of agonized screams, deep wounds and an unsettling feeling of abandonment._

_The door to his cell slowly creaks open. The dim light from the outside throws a long shadow across his worn and weary face. His defeated state of mind does not allow for him to gather the strength nor the courage to look towards his unexpected visitor. Instead, he patiently waits and barely hears the distant voice whispering, almost hushing, to him. He feels a light brush of cold fingertips to his face -  then everything goes bright white._

_A strong wind hits his face and startles him out of his trance-like state. When he comes to, he’s standing in the middle of a vast desert. His eyes scan the horizon as grains of sand dance in the wind around him. The speck of dust shapes itself harmoniously as it moves along with the warm breeze. He drinks it all in, as if the wind itself is assuring him of this newfound safe haven. Feeling more at ease, he walks down a dune, the sand sliding beneath his bare feet. As he looks around, his eyes finally settle on a tree in the distance._

_Oz’s daughter, Faye, sits on a fallen tree trunk, patiently awaiting Tim’s arrival. The light from the rising sun dances across her face. Her dark hair floats in the wind, the golden brown skin almost glows and her brown eyes shine bright. He feels shy, wary and nervous as he approaches her, uncertain of her intentions._

_“It's okay, Tim, you're with me now. You're safe here.”_

_He willingly accepts her extended hand with a slight tremble in his fingertips, and sits down next to her. He arches his feet, doing extensions, while rubbing his knees to get them warm. Or so he tells himself, while in fact he’s not freezing at all, he’s only nervous. In the corner of his eye he finds Faye surreptitiously examining him. She points to Tim’s shoulder, her eyes suspicious and concerned._

_“What’s that?”_

_Tim shrugs as he feels and finds a small scratch mark on his right shoulder, immediately hissing at the pain when he touches it. A little blood comes from one of the blisters as he scratches them with his nails, Tim quickly wipes it off with his fingers._

_“I don’t know.”_

_Faye eyes Tim intensely, almost as if she doesn’t trust him. She reaches for Tim's wrist and takes his pulse while eyeing his body. There is a small cluster of red bumps on his neck, a small rash, that extends all the way down his shoulder._

_“I was certain there would be no physical side effects.”_

_“I guess your hypothesis is proven false then.” He tries to come across as sarcastic, almost humorous, but the graveness and direness of the situation throws it off._

_“I’m so sorry, Tim.” She looks deeply into his eyes, conveying remorse and guilt, and reassuringly explains. “I can help you.”_

_“It doesn’t matter. It’s the way it is.” Tim whispers in a saddened voice while hiding his dark circles and bloodshot eyes in his hands. “Seeing how no one has come for me, I better get used to this. I mean, what else can I do?”_

_“You could come with me.”_

_Tim looks at Faye with beatific, sad eyes, regarding her as one would a savior. He slowly nods his head in confirmation, and Faye responds with a grateful, affectionate smile as she touches his face.  Clasping his hand, Faye leads Tim across the dune, towards the seemingly endless horizon. She reaches out her hand into the empty air in front of them, and an empty mirror emerges. They walk through it, into utter darkness._

_Suddenly, they are in a large, brightly lit room. The room is enormous, its floor, ceiling and walls all made out of mirrors of different shapes and sizes. When Tim steps into the room, his face reflects back at him a hundred times._

_“Come on.” Faye grabs a firmer hold of Tim’s hand, quickly moving him across the hall to a big, antique mirror.  She reaches out and touches its surface, and it suddenly molds to her hand, going soft like the surface of a pond. It pulls her in. She pulls back aggressively and the mirror goes flat again._

_“You need to go through this mirror.”_

_“Is it safe?”_

_Faye looks at him earnestly, gravely, and shakes her head. Suddenly, a deep roar shakes the hallway. The two of them turn around, startled and on edge, and they both eye their surroundings with suspicion._

_“Listen carefully, Tim.” Faye holds Tim’s sweaty palms in her own, squeezing them tight. “There’s a great risk involved with going through the mirror. In fact, it might not work at all.”_

_The atmosphere is growing increasingly darker and ominous. Something’s coming, closing in._

_“It has to do with what dad, no… what we, did to you. Since there’s two of you now, the mirror might choose the other one.”_

_“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Tim feels fear and panic rising in his chest._

_Before Faye can explain, a mirror across the hallway explodes and shatters behind them. Out of another mirror, out of nothingness, Oz descends. He snarls when he sees Faye._

_“What do you think you’re doing, child?”_

_Faye appears frightened and intimidated by her father’s presence. Perhaps near an emotional breakdown._

_“I’m not letting you hurt him, not anymore.”_

_He reaches for Tim, but Faye steps in front of him. Annoyed, Oz lands a powerful blow to Faye’s head, sending her flying. He lifts her up with one hand and pulls her face to his, clamping his massive hands around her throat. She looks into her father’s soulless eyes. There’s a moment of silence, before she spits him in the face and bites into his chin, drawing blood. Shocked and hurt, Oz loosens his hold enough so Faye can free herself. She stumbles backwards, turns to Tim and points towards the mirror behind him._

_Tim hesitates for a moment, then turns and reaches for the mirror frame. The glass in the mirror has gone all soft, like gauze. As he takes a step forward into the mirror, the glass begins to melt away around him. Once he is through the mirror, his surroundings turn into a sort of mist. His vision blurs, fades. He sees a faint light as falls, then there’s only darkness._

**_Hyde Park, London  
_****Song:** _Under Ytan_ \- Loreen

_Tim plummets straight down into darkness. He tries to reach out, to stop his descent, but cannot. Suddenly, he crashes against a hard, wet surface. As he opens his eyes he sees blurry trees and a distant, starry, midnight sky. His hands reach out towards it, but he’s stopped by a solid, wet surface. He feels his way across it, but he can’t seem to break through. He’s trapped, barely visible through the crystal-clear water of the pond._

_Tim's eyes dart around him like an animal caught in a trap. He breathes deeply, acclimating to his newfound, strange surroundings. Shivering, he catches himself in the water surface’s reflection and looks deeply into it.  There is something's odd and unsettling about the reflection. He throws his fists against the water but to no avail. He leans back, sighs in disappointment and shakes his head. He’s ready to give up – when suddenly, he_ _winces. His head hurts in agony and he looks up._

_In front of him, he sees how the reflection of himself rises out of the pond on the other side of the surface. The reflection backs away like a drowning victim breaking through for air._ _Tim only stares at the other as the scene plays out in front of him. He bangs on the surface again with his fist._

_“Hey!” He yells at his reflection, but there's no response._

_“Let me out!”_

_The reflection hears nothing, sees nothing. It coughs, sputters, and thirstily drinks in oxygen. His reflection, now a man of flesh and bone, scrambles backwards to the shore and pulls itself to land, panting heavily as it collapses onto the ground. He feels dizzy and disoriented._ _Pale and sweating, Tim_ _feels his eyes watering up, his fists shaking, frustration building up in his chest. Tim screams out and falls to his knees against the water surface._

 _Meanwhile, the man who looks just like him, rises to his feet. He stumbles backwards, seemingly acclimating to his new surroundings. He turns to leave._

_Through the looking-glass_ _, Tim watches helplessly as his oblivious body, his life, waltz away into the night._

_Det finns mycket där som händer  
**There is a lot that happens there**_ ****

_Som vi inte kan förstå  
**That we cannot understand**_

_Men vi hittar alltid svaren  
**But we always find the answers**_ ****

_Där I botten av oss själva  
**In the depths of ourselves**_ ****

_Under ytan  
_ **_Beneath the surface_ **

 


	6. Memory Lane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers,
> 
> Thank you for waiting during this hiatus. I've had a lot going on in my personal life lately, but I'm getting back on track now. Thus, my energy and inspiration finally returned - and this new chapter is a result of that process! I want to thank you all for reading and leaving kudos even tho this fanfic has been taking a pause. It really encouraged me to return to it from time to time. As for the remaining chapters, I have them planned but won't update as regularly as I did with chap 1-5. I hope to update once to twice a month. 
> 
> I want to thank my amazing beta, champagneleftie, for supporting me and helping me with this chapter. Your edits and feedback is what makes me evolve as a writer and I learn so much from you. Thank you for being such an amazing friend, a talented writer and great beta. ❤
> 
> I also want to thank beta-lactamase/vertigo for giving me feedback and advice on how to structure and build this chapter. The advice you gave me really helped me improve and finish this chapter in a much better shape and condition. And thank you so so so much for being my biggest supporter. Your encouragement and belief in me and this fanfic is what keeps me going, it's what makes me continue to write and want to finish this story. ❤❤
> 
>  
> 
> Here is the link to the Spotify playlist for Chapter 6:  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/chowayu/playlist/0kO0xZxPJLZ0Q0NUmbXIFZ?si=NovB38I-RE-a8VODdhwp0w
> 
> Playlist for chapter 6:  
> Hollow Talk - Choir of Young Believers  
> Goodbye - Apparat  
> Do You Remember - Jarryd James  
> Fast Travelling (Radio Edit) - IRAH  
> Burden (feat. Dave Gibson) - RKCB  
> Underneath - Brandyn Burnette  
> White Flag - Dido  
> Nu Vibe - Tribe Society  
> The House of the Rising Sun - The Animals

 

**_~*~_ **

**_JASON_** **  
****Song:** _Hollow Talk_ \- Choir of Young Believers **  
****Location:** Gotham city, New Jersey **  
****Time:** 09:30 PM **  
  
**

It is pitch-black outside when Jason finally arrives on his bike to the grand arena entrance. Stephanie is only a few feet away, standing next to a parade of fancy cars. She is panting, covered in sweat, but waves at him, motioning for him to come over. Jason parks his bike, leaves the keys and hurries to her side.

 

"Jason, I… I…”

 

Her panic is obvious. Her body is shaking from exhaustion, the chest heaving like a bellow. She has to stop for a second to catch her breath before she can get another word out.

 

“I’ve looked all over the place. I can’t find him.”

 

Without uttering a word, Jason walks solemnly back to his motorcycle. Stephanie jogs after him, her breathing short and rapid. Jason can’t help but feel slightly worried. He has this weird feeling in his stomach, but can’t really pinpoint why. And honestly, he is not sure he even wants to know the answer.

 

“I’ve alerted the others. Did Bruce send you?”

 

“No, Tim… Alvin. Called me.”

 

“What?” Stephanie chokes out, looking bewildered and clearly on the verge of crying.

 

“Here, get on.” Jason hands her the helmet and straddles the bike. Stephanie doesn’t move. It is as if she is petrified by her emotions.

 

“It’s just – I don’t know what happened. One minute he’s completely fine, then he panics and runs off. I swear, he was just behind me, I never let him out of my sight, I-”

 

Sighing impatiently, Jason takes a deep breath before he pats her on the shoulder. It’s not much, but it’s evidently enough for Stephanie as she calms down a bit, stopping her rant.

 

“Relax, we’ll find him.”

 

Stephanie’s smile is small, but grateful, as she finally puts the helmet on and gets on the bike behind him. Her arms wrap around Jason’s waist, holding him in a close embrace. She leans heavily and bonelessly on him as they proceed to drive down the streets in the late evening, quick and swift.

 

After what feels like an eternity of endless searching, they come to a sudden stop at a red light in a T-intersection. Behind him, Jason can feel Stephanie shudder. Sobbing. As he turns backwards, he can see that she is staring obsessively at the road ahead, so deep in thought she doesn’t seem to have realized that they’ve stopped.

 

Suddenly, a movement in the corner of his eye makes Jason turn  and look in the opposite direction. There is a familiar figure in the distance, sitting on the pavement, hiding behind two illegally parked cars.

 

It's **him**. 

 

It's Tim. 

 

Or... is it _Alvin_?

 

An uneasiness sweeps through his stomach for a second or two, before it quickly disappears. No time for doubt or hesitation, no, this calls for action.

 

“I’ll be back in 5. Be careful with the bike, it has a new paint job.”

 

“What? Jason!”

 

Leaving the bike in the middle of the road, Jason gets off and runs in the opposite direction. The cars around them start honking in a choir of frustration, their drivers yelling obscenities as Stephanie throws herself forward on the bike, taking hold of it.

  

As Jason approaches, he notices how the other man is seemingly disoriented, shaken and timid. Slowly, the other turns around, and, seeing Jason, immediately sighs out in what Jason can only decipher as relief.

 

"Jason, I just ran and I don't... I don't feel Tim anymore, I..."

 

Not **him**.

 

It's  _Alvin_. 

 

He comes to a halt right next to Alvin, taking a seat on the cold, hard concrete. Paying no attention to the rising tension over by the red light, Jason turns to the jumpy, distressed man. He gives him a thorough look over before breaking the silence.

 

“So Alvin...You good?”

 

Still evidently unsettled, Alvin’s only response is to nod his head this time around. A long uncomfortable beat of silence follows, and then,

 

“You’re still staying at the hotel?”

 

Another nod.

 

“Look, I talked to Bruce, he wants you moved to the Mansion. You up for it?”

 

For a moment, Alvin seems hesitant. His eyes darts back and forth between Jason and the road before them.

 

Then, finally, they stop. Staring straigh at Jason. Alvin's eyes linger on the bridge of Jason’s nose, the curve of his upper lip. Jason can almost feel the stare creeping over his skin. There’s another long silence, and then:

 

“But it’s not really _me_ he wants there, right?” A pause, and then, “Don’t lie to me.”

 

 _So observant_. _Just like **Tim**_ **.**

 

"Alvin, listen-" Before Jason can answer, he’s being grabbed by the neck and pulled backwards. It’s a firm and forceful pull, fingernails scraping against Jason’s skin. As he looks up, he comes face to face with Stephanie, who’s rapidly oscillating back and forth between anger and relief. She shakes her head at him in disbelief as she pulls him up to his feet.

 

“Jason, you’re unbelievable. Leaving me in the middle of traffic-”

 

“I found him.”

 

“No, don’t change the subject. We could have gotten hurt. You just left me there with-”

 

“Surely, you can handle yourself.”

 

“Jason-”

 

Suddenly, Alvin jumps to his feet and brushes past them both. But before he can pass by Stephanie, she stops her scolding of Jason and throws her arms around Alvin. Over her shoulder, Jason can see Alvin startle. He blushes, but with an obvious annoyance to his features. He is still speechless, but still he pats her on the back and allows her to hug him till she’s satisfied.

 

 _So noble. Just like_ **Tim**.

 

“Please, come to the manor with us. It’s safe there.” Stephanie pleads.

 

"I don't know..." Alvin looks doubtfully back at Jason. They exchange quick glances, before Jason slowly nods his head in Alvin’s direction. Alvin takes a deep breath and relaxes into Stephanie’s embrace. "Okay. I'll go with you."

 

Stephanie squeals obnoxiously loud before tightening her embrace of Alvin. Jason only shrugs as he eyes the two of them, then moves to retrieve his bike from where he left it. In the middle of the road. In the middle of traffic. Maybe not his best idea...

 

He looks back over his shoulder and points at Stephanie.

 

“You call an Uber. I’ll take him.” Jason says nonchalantly with a faint smile.

 

The words and action makes Alvin flush in embarrassment. It strikes Jason how transparent he is, always revealing way more than he probably wants to. It’s different.

 

So different from Tim’s ability to close off his emotions and play a part.

 

It’s actually rather refreshing.

 

 **No**.

 

Wait. It's not. It _shouldn't_ be.

 

_It's not like Tim._

 

“But this time, I’ll drive.” Jason states shortly, his back intentionally turned towards Alvin.

 

“What? Was I that bad?” Alvin counters, a small laughter escaping him.

 

“No, not bad. But it's my bike, my rules." Jason says coldly, getting on his bike. He feels his nerves itching. A slight headache coming on. "Lets just go."

 

Alvin follows him with a slight uncertainty attached to him. He gets on behind and holds on to the bike. Not to Jason.

 

Before starting, Jason turns his head around, meeting Alvin’s seeking gaze behind him. “What did you mean earlier when you mentioned Tim?” 

 

A long silent beat, and then,

 

“Nothing.”

 

**~*~**

**12 MONTHS EARLIER**

**_ALVIN_ **

**Song** ** _:_** _Goodbye_ \- Apparat

 **Location** : Notting Hill, London

 **Time** : 09:33 PM

 

_There are steaming pipes on the stained walls, brown water dripping into puddles on the ground below. The sound of trickling water echoes intensely in Alvin’s head, as he rounds a corner, slips, and nearly falls. He gets a hold of his balance, pushes himself shakily through a red door, and runs down a corridor. It’s pitch black, except for a tiny light from the distant bathroom, far away at the end of the corridor._

 

_So close now._

 

_Alvin bursts through the bathroom door and into the nearest cubicle, bends over the toilet bowl, and vomits. Once he’s done, he instinctively crouches on the dirty floor and flattens himself against the wall for support. His whole body is on edge, shaking. He’s terrified._

 

_After a good twenty minutes, he finally gets up and stumbles over to the sink. He washes his face, looks up, and wipes it dry with his shirt. The mirror in front of him is covered in dirt and cracked straight across, his reflection seemingly broken in half. A thin line of blood runs down his face, from the top of his head down between his eyes. He reaches up, hesitates, then wipes the blood away._

 

_As he looks down at his hand, there’s nothing there._

 

 _Nothing_.

 

_He staggers backward in shock, grabbing for the door. When his hand is only inches from the doorknob, he hears an odd sound coming from the other side of it._

 

_A painful screech._

 

_Startled, Alvin hesitates. Then he slowly turns the knob and creaks the door open._

 

_Another screech. Louder. Nearer._

 

 _Alvin cautiously peeks through the small opening._ _On the opposite end of the hall there’s a figure, melting into the darkness. The figure creeps closer, hugging the walls. It has the silhouette of an average man, and yet there is something unsettling and disturbing about it. Alvin can't pinpoint what it is that frightens him about the figure, but his whole body tells him to be wary._

 

_To run._

_As the figure advances, Alvin quickly takes a left and makes for the emergency stairway. He glances about nervously as he hurries up the stairs, and down along a similar corridor. He sees the main exit out of the building and sprints for it, almost falling over as he pushes through the revolving door._

 

_Once outside in the open air, it feels as if he’s entered into a canyon of city silence. A brief, chilly wind pulls at Alvin’s hair and damp clothing, making him shiver uncontrollably. The streets are completely devoid of movement, except for a lone sheet of newspaper that blows past him._

 

_Alvin crosses the street, stops, and looks up. There is a full moon tonight, surrounded by blood red clouds. A crimson moon._

 

 _The street signs suddenly flare, reflecting the headlights of an approaching car. An_ _early nineties Volvo_ _pulls up and parks right behind him. A well-dressed, pompous-looking young man with water combed blonde hair steps out. Alvin watches the man come up to him with suspicion. Something about him raises Alvin's hackles. His first instinct is that this man is not someone he can trust._

 

_Run._

_Run._

_Run._

 

_“Are you alright?”, the stranger asks._

 

_Alvin doesn’t answer, he only eyes the man warily and takes a step back. Why does the stranger care?_

 

_Why doesn't he run?_

 

_“Do you want me to call someone?” The man inspects him from head to toe, his features softening somewhat as he comes closer. “An ambulance? The cops?”_

 

_Alvin doesn't know what to respond, so he settles for silence. In the distance he can hear the freeway. Suddenly, flashing red and blue lights illuminate his face as a series of police cars go by, sirens piercing the night sky. It startles him, and he can feel a drop of sweat trickle down his forehead.  He wipes his brow with a trembling hand as he backs away further, accidentally kicking over two trash cans and tripping in the process._

 

_“Careful!” The man grabs Alvin’s hand to steady him. “Shit, you’re all wet. You must be freezing. Here.”_

 

_The man carefully approaches Alvin, removing his wool coat and draping it across Alvin’s shoulders. It’s a size too big for him, but it’s warm and soft so Alvin doesn’t protest. As they stare at each other , the man’s right hand reaches slowly towards Alvin's arm in a slow, mesmerizing way. His hand is gentle, friendly, as if he’s trying to convey trust._

 

_And for some inexplicable, silly reason, Alvin can feel himself calm down._

 

_“Thanks.”_

 

_“You’re welcome. I’m Benjamin, by the way. Benjamin Lewis.” The man looks at Alvin affectionately and reaches out his hand. Alvin only stares it, dumbfounded._

 

_“I…Where am I?” Alvin asks quietly._

 

_“Notting Hill.”_

 

_"I’m in London?”_

 

 _The man gives Alvin a curious look, his features growing increasingly concerned._ _A young couple having a loud argument passes by, too self-absorbed to notice them._

 

_“Look, it’s late, dark and cold. I’ll give you a ride if you want.”_

 

_“No, I’m good.”_

 

_“I get it, I do. Don’t trust strangers. It is smart. So, here.” The man's face turns a faint shade of red as he gives Alvin a few bills and his number, written hastily over a receipt from a pub. “This should be enough for the tube. And my number, if you need anything.”_

 

 _Alvin_ _looks at the money and slowly_ _reaches out to take it. He shoves it into his pockets along with the stranger’s card, then hurriedly proceeds to walk away, but stops midway. He turns, and for a tense beat, locks eyes with the man._

 

_"Thanks. Ben, was it?”_

 

_“Benjamin. But I guess Ben works too.”_

 

 

 **_~*~_ ** **_  
_ ** **_JASON_ **

It’s in the middle of the night when they finally arrive at Wayne Manor. The front gate is wide open, all the lights still on as they drive up the road to the main entrance.

 

Jason parks his motorcycle and gets off first, Alvin close in tow as he heads up the stairs to the door. As they approach it, Alvin comes to a halt, seemingly deep in thought. 

 

Jason stops in his tracks. Doesn’t knock on the door that’s only an arm’s length away. Instead, he turns to Alvin, studies him for a minute. He appears hesitant, wary, as he stares at the building ahead. Something is clearly off.

 

“You okay?” Jason asks, his voice way more gentle than he intended it to be.

 

“I don’t know.” Alvin replies, tilting his head and smiling weakly as he looks at Jason. “You’re saying I have a choice here?”

 

Jason can hear how it’s meant to come across as a joke, but there is a grave seriousness to his tone that gives Alvin away. He’s obviously nervous, but Jason is not the one to comfort him, not the one for Alvin to lean on or confide in.

 

And yet,

 

 _Maybe_.

 

“We can bail right now without a single word. Just say it and we’ll leave.” Jason suggests, the words escaping his mouth before his mind can stop him.

 

Alvin nods his head, smiling fondly his way. He looks more determined and comfortable now, even taking a few steps forward. 

 

“It’s alright, but thanks for the offer.” Alvin says sincerely while laying a hand on Jason’s shoulder, squeezing it as he passes by. “And also, thank you for coming for me, Jason.”

 

Jason looks away, to which Alvin responds by removing his hand and moving onwards. Alvin turns to knock on the large, heavy wooden door frame. He knocks once, twice…

 

Before he can knock a third time, they hear hurried footsteps and the turning of the locks from the inside. The door slowly creaks open.

 

Welcoming them on the other side is the same butler that had greeted and assisted Alvin during his last visit. The butler instantly brightens up, opening up the doors to their fullest.

 

“Mister Draper, Master Jason,” the man says, stepping aside to let the both of them in. “so nice to see you again so soon. I’ve had a room prepared for you, Mister Draper. Oh, and welcome back home- I mean, to Wayne Manor.”

 

**~*~**

**8 MONTHS AGO**

**_ALVIN_ **

**Song** ** _:_  ** _Do You Remember -_ Jarryd James, Raury

 **Location** **_:_ ** London

 **Time:** 09:45 AM

 

 _The tall gate and looming 19_ _th_ _century building throws long, dark shadows upon them as they exit the cab on Wednesday morning. Ben pays the chauffeur in cash, thanks him for the ride and turns towards Alvin, who’s looking at the gothic, imposing building anxiously. Ben stares at him for a long moment, then comes closer. He brushes away a few strands of hair from Alvin’s face, leans in and kisses him quickly on the lips._

 

_“It’s going to be fine, Alvin.” The use of his name in such a loving tone stops Alvin’s breath altogether. He feels torn, torn between discomfort and compassion as he blushes and nods his head in response._

 

_Why does he care so much?_

 

_Alvin can’t help but feel guilty as Ben comes closer, full with warmth and anticipation._

 

_“Hey,” Ben smiles and lovingly entwines their hands together. “How about we take the day off? We can pick up some Indian food, go back to my place, watch Downton Abbey in bed...”_

 

_“Maybe. I don’t know.”_

 

 _“Babe, come on.” Ben_ _looks awkward and_ _laughs nervously, obviously less than satisfied with Alvin’s response. “Okay, we can watch something else. You choose.”_

 

 _“No, it’s fine.”_ _Alvin lies and tries to smile, but he can't quite meet Ben's gaze._

 

_“Okay.” Ben eyes him uncertainly for a moment, then nods numbly and goes off, heading over to the main entrance. Alvin follows him, slowly. Guilt-ridden._

 

_As Alvin opens the heavy, wooden frame door, he’s struck by how damp the air inside is. He sighs with unease and starts up the stairs, always seven steps behind Ben._

 

_Ben confidently enters a tiny reception area room and approaches the counter. He acknowledges the receptionist, a petite woman wearing a high-end brand name dress way above her paycheck, of their arrival and of Alvin’s scheduled appointment._

 

" _I'll wait here for you." Ben says while gently squeezing Alvin's shoulder. Alvin only nods, before the receptionist leads him down the aligning corridor. He glances back quickly, and sees how Ben seats himself in the visitor’s lounge.  He picks up a magazine, crosses his legs and proceeds to casually skim through the pages. Patiently waiting._

 

_When Alvin enters Dr. Akolor’s office, the first thing he notices is how welcoming the room is. The place is stunning with its high ceilings, soft light, large rococo chandeliers, fancy leather sofas and wooden chairs. Instead of the regular clinical interior of most doctor’s offices, this room is painted in a warm, brown color and the walls are decorated with family photographs and framed certificates. Like a home. A living room._

 

_Over by the window stands the slight figure of a heavily pregnant woman. At the sound of the door opening, she turns towards him._

 

 _“Alvin, how nice to meet you again._ _How are you?” Dr. Akolor says as she greets Alvin warmly with a firm handshake and big smile. “Please, have a seat. Do you need anything? Tea? Coffee?”_

 

 _Alvin shakes his head and smiles politely. He nervously sits down in front of the doctor's desk. Dr. Akolor, a beautiful and extremely sophisticated woman in her 40s, discreetly places her notes back in an open folder with his name on it. Alvin squints, unable to interpret them. She scrutinizes a few CAT-scan slides in her hand as Alvin clears his throat_ , _sweating with tension._

 

_“So, what did the scan pick up?”_

 

_“The good news is that the preliminary tests are all negative. We have found no evidence of tumors, lesions or hemorrhaging.”_

 

_“So you don’t know what is wrong with me?”_

_  
_ _Dr. Akolor places the CAT-scan slides aside, leans forward on her elbows and tilts her head to the right._

 

_“Unfortunately, no. May I ask, does your family have a history of background in memory loss?”_

 

_“Honestly, I don’t know.”_

 

_The atmosphere alters immediately as Dr. Akolor look at Alvin in consternation._

 

_“Okay. I’ll try my best to lay out what I believe is happening here.” She takes a deep breath before she speaks again. “The blackouts and visions could be triggered by stress. That, in combination with your poor sleeping routines and hectic lifestyle, could contribute to your condition.”_

 

_“What do you mean ‘I have a condition’?”_

 

_Dr. Akolor gets up from her seat and walks over to the window, looking out over the streets below. It’s pouring outside._

 

_“Alvin, I believe you’re experiencing what we commonly call daylight hallucinations.”_

 

_“Come again?”_

 

_She turns back and faces Alvin head on. She speaks to Alvin quietly, sympathetically._

 

_“It’s kind of what children would refer to as an imaginary friend. You’ve described lengthy conversations and physical encounters with this, as you call him, Double. I believe it to be a manifestation of your subconscious mind.”_

 

_“I... What? What can I do?”_

 

 _“I suggest you seek out a former student and friend of mine. He’s a therapist, specializing in hypnotherapy. His name is_ _Jamie Petersen_ _and I believe he can help you. Until then, I’ll increase your medication.”_

 

_Alvin removes himself from the chair as if it was on fire, feeling unsettled and nervous. Nauseous. Alvin twists and turns uncomfortably where he stands, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Instead, he pulls up his hoodie to hide his face. Cover up his pain._

 

_“I think it's for the best, Alvin.” She pushes on, her voice soft and emphasising in its wording. “It will do you good. Do you have anyone who can accompany you? A family member or friend maybe?”_

 

_Alvin doesn't respond, doesn't even nod or shake his head. He feels numb, hurt and cold._

 

_"Do you want me to get Ben?"_

 

_A long silent beat, and then,_

 

_"No."_

 

 

**_~*~_ **

**ONE WEEK LATER**

**TODAY**

**_**~*~** _ **

 

**_STEPHANIE_ **

**Song** **_:_ ** _Fast Traveling (Radio Edit) -_ IRAH

 **Location:** Stephanie’s apartment, Gotham city

 **Time:** 06:15 AM

 

_Stephanie’s bedroom is cozy, with a queen-sized bed and a desk with a computer on it. Bookshelves line every inch of wall space and overflow with books and photo frames with joyful moments and happy memories. Stephanie herself is fast asleep._

 

_"Babe, are you awake yet?"_

 

 _The voice wakes her up. Just as she is about to sit up, Faye walks into the room, wearing a pair of dark Armani j_ _eans and a t-shirt. She's carrying the New York Times._

 

_Faye? Why is she here?_

 

_“Good morning, baby. Guess what?” Faye says enthusiastically, eyeing the paper intensely. “Tim’s exhibition got a great review.  He'll be absolutely insufferable tonight.”_

 

_Stephanie cautiously gets out of her bed. Faye looks up from the paper, looking as fresh and pretty as a spring morning._

 

_Feeling confused and embarrassed, Stephanie hurries into the bathroom, locks it and leans against the door. Did Faye come back with her last night? Or was she already here when Stephanie returned from patrol?_

 

_She can't remember._

 

_Why can't she remember?_

 

_She wraps a cotton robe around her. It’s warming. Comforting._

 

_She exits the bathroom and almost bumps straight into Faye, who heads on into the living room. Stephanie follows her, and stops breathing for a second when she sees her apartment. Except it’s not her apartment. Or well, it is, and yet it’s not. What usually is a mess, is now a charming room with a brand new IKEA couch, an open fireplace, hipster coffee table books, and a dining table with a typewriter with a cover on it._

 

_“I was thinking sushi for dinner. Can you pick it up after work?” Faye puts down the paper on the dining table, heads over to the kitchen counter and turns on the $2000 espresso machine, which starts instantly grinding beans._

 

_Stephanie simply nods her head, feeling too confused to formulate a sentence. She eyes the room and her eyes lands on a dog. Yes, a living and breathing dog is sitting on a large green pillow on the floor over by the window. The pillow has " Argos" embroidered on it._

 

_When did she get a dog?_

 

_Faye sees Steph’s perplexed expression and comes over. She wraps her arms around Stephanie’s neck, leans in, and kisses her. Stephanie feels her cheeks heat up. This is not a kiss from a random one-night stand. This is not a kiss from stranger in a bar._

 

_It’s a lover’s kiss._

 

_When they part, Faye laughs._

 

_“What’s the matter? Are you still out of it from what I did to you last night?” Faye plays with the band on the robe, snickering at Stephanie. She moves her hands inside the robe and lets her warm fingers run down Stephanie’s naked skin underneath, down towards her panties. “Will your boss be awfully mad if you come in a little bit late today?”_

 

_Suddenly, the dog gets up and heads towards Stephanie and Faye, barking happily while wiggling its tail. Faye sighs, removes her hands from Stephanie’s body and back off, turning towards the dog._

 

_“You’re so damn punctual, Argos.” Faye picks up a jacket from a chair by the table, puts it on and reaches for the leash. “You’ll probably be gone when I get back, so…” Faye walks over to Stephanie, cups her chin in her palm and kisses her again. Really savoring it this time, like it’s their last. Faye sighs contently as they break apart. She looks so genuinely happy._

 

_Faye and Argos head over towards the door. As Faye puts on her sneakers and opens the door, she looks back up at Stephanie one last time and smiles lovingly her way, before stepping out._

 

_What the fuck._

 

_Feeling utterly confused, Stephanie picks up Faye’s coffee cup, smelling the strong scent of freshly brewed beans. She closes her eyes for a moment, lets herself relax into the domesticity and calmness of their home._

 

_“Steph? What are you doing here?”_

 

_Opening her eyes, she comes face to face with Tim, looking at her worriedly yet eagerly. He moves forward, grabs her by the shoulders firmly._

 

_“Oh my god, Tim!”_

 

_Tim covers her mouth with the palm of his hand, interrupting both her sentence and the warm but confused feeling in her chest. She shakes her head in perplexity, about to protest, when Tim grabs a hold of her face, holding her still, focused._

 

_“It’s not safe here, you hear? Faye should know better than to expose you too.”_

 

_“What?”_

 

_“You need to wake up now, Steph.” A sad gentleness falls upon Tim’s serious features as he says her name, making him seem so real._

 

_So very real._

 

_And so near._

 

_And then…_

 

Stephanie bolts out of bed. It’s still dark in her apartment, yet the alarm clock is going off frantically. She looks around warily. It’s so cold and quiet. She hurries into her living room, puts on the lights and it’s once again the white, naked walls, the sparsely decorated room.

 

No dog. No lit fireplace. No Faye.

 

No Tim.

 

She feels lonely all of a sudden, which is weird considering she’s been alone for quite some time. It shouldn't bother her, but it does.

 

She checks the locks on her door, feeling slightly paranoid. Nothing’s off. She turns and heads back to the bedroom when something catches the corner of her eye on the dining table.

 

“What the…”

 

Her hands shake as she sees the red ink, the phone number and the words ‘ _Call_ _me_ ’, all scribbled down on the front page of today’s edition of _The New York Times._

 

 _“_ How is this even possible?”

 

She eyes the paper with great caution. The mystery of it captivating her.  

 

Fifteen minutes later, she makes her way downtown as Gotham slowly wakes up to a new morning. She roams around the narrow streets, meeting mothers and fathers who are taking their kids to school. There are tons of busy commuters on their way to work, dogs being walked, stylish schoolgirls waiting for their bus.

 

She passes several shops, hair salons, and supermarkets on her way to the subway. She must see the others, must talk to them about this dream. Or was it a dream at all?

 

A truck drops off brown bags of bread in the doorframes of unopened restaurants, metal grates with tulips are pulled up to flower shops around the corner. This is the peak of Gotham’s rare, serene calmness, before she transforms into her otherwise dark and gritty character.

 

Stephanie’s wanders down a crowded street, looking around, when her phone alarm goes off, stopping her in her tracks outside a local bakery. A flour truck is unloading flour into a hole in the ground next to the bakery. When Stephanie looks up, it almost looks like snow as the dust fills the air.

 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

 

Startled, Stephanie finds herself eye to eye with Faye again. Feeling awkwardly shy, she does her best to muster the courage to say hello, but can’t seem to get the words out. The flour continues to fall like a cloud of snowflakes around them.

 

“You have something on your cheek, here lemme-” Faye leans in and rubs her thumb over Stephanie’s right cheek. “There. Perfect.”

 

Stephanie, starting to feel a little foolish, looks away shyly. In the corner of her eye she spots a big TV screen covering a building, playing news coverage of the Wayne Foundation’s upcoming charity gala.

 

“You never called.” Faye states matter-of-factly, sounding half-amused, half-concerned. “I hope I didn’t go too far-”

 

“No, no, I had a great time.” Stephanie says, finally able to look Faye in the eyes. “It’s just been very hectic. But, listen, I had this weird dream about you-”

 

“Yeah? Was it good?” Faye chuckles as she asks, her smile turning into a wide grin as she moves in closer towards Stephanie. She inhales deeply, absorbing the soft scent of jasmine coming from Faye’s body. It’s sensual and intoxicating, but she can’t fall for it now.

 

“Well, actually,” Stephanie begins, feeling slightly nervous as she takes a step away from Faye. She crosses her arms defiantly across her chest, doing her best to come across as more assertive than she feels. “I thought so at first, but then I realised you've been lying to me.”

 

“What’s with the sudden bad blood vibe?” Faye asks and raises a questioning eyebrow, looking all puzzled at Stephanie’s grave expression. “Was it that bad, or-”

 

“You know Tim.”

 

The mood instantly shifts from harmlessly fun and flirty, to bitter and cold. Faye’s whole demeanor transforms. It’s like she’s growing increasingly distant and suspicious by the second. It unsettles Stephanie, but she knows she can’t back down now.

 

“I don’t know who or what you’re talking about.”

 

“Don’t lie to me. Again.” She snaps, and takes a step forward, intruding on Faye’s space for a change. “Did you seek me out intentionally?”

 

Faye takes a step back, actively avoiding Stephanie’s eyes.

 

“Answer me, dammit!”

 

“Yes!” Faye confesses, almost yelling it out. She hangs her head, looking overwhelmed by guilt as she distances herself further away from Stephanie. “I did, but please, just listen to me. I wasn’t just fooling around with you-”

 

“No, it was fooling around with an agenda, right?” Stephanie scowls, saddened by the other woman’s earnest confession.

 

“Stephanie, please, let me explain.”

 

“Trust me, I’m all ears. But,” Stephanie takes a bold step forward, her hand grabbing a firm hold around Faye’s wrist, pulling her in close. “you’re gonna tell me everything, okay?”

 

“Steph-”

 

**_“Everything.”_ **

 

**_~*~_ **

**7 MONTHS EARLIER**

**_ALVIN_ **

**Song** **_:_ ** _Burden (feat Dave Gibson) -_ RKCB

 **Location** : Notting Hill, London

 **Time** : 09:56 AM

 

 _It’s a rainy Monday morning in central London and_ _almost noon when Ben finally returns from his daily morning jog. From the living room, Alvin can hear Ben on the phone as he enters the apartment, his voice sounding mildly annoyed and concerned as he records a voice message._

 

_“Eva, please pick up.  We need to discuss Joel’s visit to Paris. Listen, I don’t know if you’ve seen the invoices yet... Don’t freak out, but we got three new ones last night, this time from L'Arpège.”_

 

_When he sees Alvin, he smiles coyly and playfully whacks him on his head with a newspaper from behind. Alvin turns slightly, looking up at Ben with a tired glaze in his blue eyes._

 

_“Morning. I got you the Guardian.”_

 

_Alvin nods back weakly as he accepts the paper from Ben. He unfolds it delicately and proceeds to skim through it._

 

_“You know, now would be a good moment to say thank you.”_

 

_Alvin lowers the newspaper to quickly glance up at Ben, but avoids direct eye contact. A long moment of silence passes by, before he sighs and attempts a genuine smile._

 

_“Thanks.” Alvin finally says, and looks back down. His eyes settle for the coffee table before him. There are multiple photos spread out all over it, featuring middle aged men and women in evening and formal wear at the Ritz. “Was it cold outside?”_

 

_“Not really, no.” Ben shrugs and collapses into his leather chair opposite Alvin. He leans forward and takes a good look at the photos. “These turned out really good. Was it fun?”_

 

 _“Hmm, I guess.”_ _Alvin replies hastily while staring at a particular photo. There are several_ _placed post-its placed next to each photo. The post-it notes has orderly headings and subheadings, laying out all the information he has gathered – times, names, relationships and even the brands of the clothes. He picks up a photo and its post-it note, rips both in half and tosses them aside._

 

_Ben looks at him in puzzlement, but before he can ask, Alvin says “Eva’s ex was there. She doesn’t need to know.”_

 

_They stare at each other for a sober moment, before Ben speaks up again, his voice lower this time._

 

_“By the way, I couldn’t help but notice our mirrors are gone.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Again.”_

 

_Alvin’s shoulders rise. He feels his whole body going rigid and defensive as Ben pushes on. He looks at Ben, shaking his head at the other man._

 

_“Ben…”_

 

_“I just want to know, should I be worried?”_

 

_“No.”_

 

_“So can we hang them back up?”_

 

_“No.”_

 

_“Are you hiding something from me?”_

 

_Alvin doesn’t answer, instead he falls silent and gets up to leave. Ben leans back in his chair, his hands gently rubbing his temples as he closes his eyes. He takes ten deep and slow breaths, his chest rising and falling rhythmically._

 

_When he opens up his eyes again, Alvin has already moved on over to the coat hanger. He can feel Ben’s gaze burning into his back, how it's fixated on following his every move.  Alvin puts on his leather jacket in a hurry, and hides his face underneath the warm fabric of Ben’s Mulberry scarf._

 

_“You’re heading out?”_

 

_“I have an appointment with Jamie.”_

 

_“Alvin. It’s Sunday. They’re closed-”, but before Ben can finish his sentence, the door closes with a loud bang. The photo frames on the wall next to the door are shaking from the force._

 

_One of them falls to the floor._

 

_Shattering._

 

**_~*~_ **

**_ALVIN_** **  
****Song: 1)** _Underneath_ \- Brandyn Burnette **; 2)** _White_ _Flag_ \- Dido **  
****Location:** Wayne Manor, Gotham city **  
****Time:** 08:12 AM

 

Curled up in a fetal position under the luxurious duvet, Alvin sleeps peacefully to the soothing sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves from the open bedroom windows. A loud obnoxious alarm clock goes off abruptly, startling him and causing him to almost jump out of bed. Still half-awake, he turns off the alarm, the sound of nature’s stillness returning. He sits up in bed and takes in his his surroundings.

 

The interior of Tim's old bedroom is classy, elegant - spotless. Black and white photographs hang on the walls: Tim and his parents at his birthday party. Tim and his dad sailing. Tim and his friends at the high school dance, Tim and Stephanie at a football game. Several Academic Achievement Awards, scholarships and diplomas.

 

Alvin’s seen them every morning this past week upon waking up. He’s gone through Tim’s old wardrobe when he ran out of his own clothes. He never knew plaid shirts and polos could be that comfortable, but he’s never admitting that aloud. Speaking of Tim…

 

Alvin gets out of bed, stepping over camera equipment as he walks into to the bathroom. It’s a small windowless shower room. He heads straight for the bathroom mirror, coming face to face with his reflection. He takes a good look at himself, and heaves out a deep sigh. It’s still there, but just barely. The previously distinguished crack in the mirror is now so faint he must squint to see it clearly. For all he knows, it’s the single sign of life he has of Tim.

 

He turns on the shower on maximum heat, the spray of warm water fills the small room with white steam. Damn, he’s out of soap. He knows the adjacent bedroom is empty, maybe it has some. He wraps the soft Lexington bathrobe around himself, but lingers for a moment, contemplating the growing, unsettling feeling in his gut.

 

 _Guilt_.

 

He glances back up, stares at the damp, misty mirror. He stands there for a moment, and starts to cry. He wipes away the tears, tries his hardest to make them stop. Carefully, he traces his fingers over the wet mist, writing across the glass.

 

**_Still there?_ **

 

Nothing.

 

With heavy steps, Alvin leaves the bedroom, feeling slightly uneasy. Living with the Waynes is draining him emotionally. It’s almost been a week since he arrived to the manor with Jason. While he knows they all mean well, he can’t help but feel like he’s poor replacement of the son, friend, brother… lover… they all want back. For every passing day, he finds himself missing Tim more and more. Like he always was a part of Alvin to begin with, a part that’s now gone, causing him to feel lost.

 

Lonely, even.

 

Shoving his thoughts aside, Alvin approaches the door across the hall, but stops. It’s half-open and there’s movement on the other side. Slowly, he peeks in. He’s surprised to find the room occupied, and even more surprised to see another man there. And not just any man. Standing in the middle of the room, with a towel wrapped around his waist, is none other than Richard Grayson. With a great body.

 

Feeling shy and self-conscious, Alvin hastily wraps the robe even tighter around himself, trying his best not to stare at the man in front of him.

 

He takes a clumsy, loud step backwards, gaining the unwanted attention from the other man. Dick opens up the door further, and the two finally meet.

 

An awkward silence befalls them both for what feels like an eternity. Alvin nervously runs a sweaty hand through his greasy morning hair, staring at the ground before him. Dick opens the door to the fullest, evidently happy to see him. Alvin taps his right foot on the floor, trying to look casual.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“So, um, you’re-”.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know someone was staying here.” Alvin interrupts, stammering as he speaks, suddenly shy in the presence of the other man. “I can come back later, I just-”

 

“You’re Alvin, right?”

 

Alvin looks up, surprised by Dick’s smooth voice and heartfelt warm smile as he says his name. Alvin’s only response is to nod his head, to which Dick steps aside, welcoming Alvin to enter.

 

“Did you get some good sleep?”

 

“Not really, but um…” Alvin says, his voice oddly off tune as he speaks. “I’ll let you get dressed. I only wanted to borrow some soap.”

 

“It’s fine, come on in.” Dick insist while putting on a pair of grey jeans and a white t-shirt.

 

They are standing a good distance apart, both evidently unsure of how to proceed. Alvin hesitates, but then sees Dick’s sympathetic eyes and the way he’s patiently waiting for Alvin to move. So he enters, and as he does, he takes a good moment to examine the bedroom. It’s slightly bigger than Tim’s, but way messier. The curtains are wide open, pouring light into the room. A sad but calming song by Dido plays in the background. There’s a jumble of clothes all over the place, piles of books scattered along all the furniture. He notices two books called " _Coping with Your Loved One's Amnesia and Dementia_ " and “ _A Family Guide to Caring for People With Amnesia and Memory Loss_ ” on Dick’s bedside table. The books are worn and have multiple bookmarks - indicating that they’ve been read thoroughly and many times over. He’s not dumb, he knows exactly what it all implies, and yet… It makes him smile.

 

_Tim’s so lucky. So loved._

 

Lost in his thoughts, Alvin doesn't see Dick until he turns and finds him practically right next to him. It’s Dick’s hand that breaks the gap between them. His touch is gentle, with a slight tremble to it, as his hand squeezes Alvin’s right bicep. It surprises Alvin. It feels as if this is their first touch.

 

And, in a way, it is.

 

Alvin stands motionless as they nudge closer. He doesn't know what to say. Somehow this is too intimate, too close, so he says whatever comes first to his mind.

 

“You and Tim,” Alvin starts and looks straight at Dick. “you were close, right?”

 

“Yes, we were.” Dick replies, sincerity and concern both very evident in his words. He loosens his grip of Alvin’s arm, waits for a moment, then let’s go. “He was like a little brother to me. May I ask why you’re asking?”

 

“I just feel…” he pauses, taking a deep breath. He glances towards the books on the bedside table again, warmth and gratefulness filling him up. “I admit, I’m nervous, but it feels like I can trust you.”

 

“Trust me with what?” Dick asks, unable to hide the pride and joy in his voice following Alvin's honest confession. 

 

“Okay… I feel lost ever since I got to Gotham. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore. I thought I knew who I was. I thought I was this professional photographer. I thought my life would consist of me travelling the world, perfect my art, meet new people... but, honestly, I don't know anymore.” Alvin confesses, feeling his whole being relax and unwind for every honest word that escapes his mouth. “I feel so lost since I got here. Since I met all of you. And at the same time... I also feel strangely at home-"

 

He suddenly stops mid-rant when he sees Dick’s puzzled expression, his attention seemingly somewhere else. Or more precisely, behind Alvin. Alvin turns to look what’s wrong, and startles when he sees him.

 

Damian.

 

Damian is standing in the doorway. He is in his pajamas and a robe, his black hair tousled with sleep. He’s holding a change of clothes and a pair of runner’s shoes in his arms, apparently headed somewhere. How long has he been there, listening to them?

 

Dick takes a step toward him, and greets Damian with a hug, leaning on him for a moment. It’s a bit awkward, but he’s obviously glad to see him.

 

“Morning, off to the gym this early?”

 

Damian scowls at Dick’s intrusion of his personal space, and eyes Alvin up and down, eerily silent. He has this unreadable expression plastered upon his face. It unsettles Alvin. Finally, Damian breaks the silence and looks up towards Dick.

 

“You mean you’re not? You're slacking off, Grayson.” he says flatly.

 

“No need to be rude. Why don’t you invite us to join you, instead?”

 

“I did. But he bailed.” Damian states, once again looking at Alvin. He almost sounds a bit disappointed, to which Alvin doesn’t know how to feel or respond. Instead, he stares at Damian in confusion, trying to remember - and then it dawns upon him.

 

“Damn, the rematch. I totally forgot.”

 

“Chickened out, you mean?”

 

Dick sighs and gives both of them a tired look while zipping up a hoodie, his hair still stylishly damp from the shower.

 

“Hey, you two…Why don’t the three of us hang out this afternoon?” Dick asks carefully.

 

“I don’t know, Dick. I mean, I still have an article to write, photos to shoot...”

 

“Me too. I’m busy. Extremely busy in fact.”

 

“I don’t think I can spare a minute actually because Eva sent me this e-mail and-”

 

“Yeah, and dad wants me to clean the cave, Jon wants to hang out, Alfred probably wants something-”

 

Dick shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the two younger men. Then, he firmly grabs them both by their necks, dragging them with him down the hall.

 

“Get dressed. We're leaving after lunch.”

 

**~*~**

**6 MONTHS EARLIER**

**_ALVIN_ ** ****  
**Location:** London   **  
** **Time:** 11:47 AM

 

_Inside a therapist’s consulting room, Jamie Petersen, a recently graduated therapist, is sitting opposite Alvin, his cardboard notepad out. Alvin sits stiffly in his chair, feeling out of place and a little embarrassed. His eyes linger on the large windows and the spectacular view over the Thames. Jamie looks at him, concerned and knowingly._

 

_“And how are the migraines? Are they getting any worse? Better?”_

 

_“The meds help. Sometimes.”_

_  
_ _“That’s good, you’re responding well to the treatment. What about this ‘Double’? Do you still see it?” Jamie asks and looks up, curious to know more._

 

_Alvin leans back in his chair and runs his hands down his face. He feels and looks exhausted and knows that he looks it too, with his eyes stained red stained eyes from lack of sleep and stress. His phone vibrates in his pocket for a third time since their session began. It’s probably Ben._

 

_Again._

 

_“Alvin?” Jamie asks carefully, waking Alvin up from his trance._

 

_“I dunno, I guess I saw him last night, outside a bar on Oxford Street.”_

 

_“I see.” Jamie’s tone is so knowing, so perceptive. It makes Alvin uncomfortable. “What did it do?”_

 

_“He tried to talk to me, but he disappeared when I got too close.” Alvin stops and eyes Jamie as he makes a quick note in his notebook._

 

_“What did you write down just now?” Alvin  demands, well aware of how harsch his voice sounds. “Jamie-”_

 

_“Did it say anything to you?” Jamie asks, ignoring Alvin’s question._

 

_Alvin hesitates for a minute, unsure whether or not he should respond._

 

_“I don’t know. It was hard to make out, it was almost like he was mumbling and not really speaking.”_

 

_“What do you think it wants?”_

 

_“I’d rather not find out. Look, what are you writing?”_

 

_“Alvin, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re referring to the hallucination as a he, as in it being a person.” Jamie leans forward in his chair, a curious expression on his face, his pen ready to write down whatever Alvin may choose to share next. “We’ve gone over this before, Alvin. It is only your mind at work, creating these imaginary fragments.”_

_  
_ _“But it feels real to me.” Alvin sighs deeply, letting his head rest in his hands. He tries his best to ignore the sound of Jamie’s frantic writing._

 

_“What feels real?”_

 

_“He does.”_

 

**~*~**

**_ALVIN_ ** ****  
**Song:** _Nu Vibe_ \- Tribe Society ****  
**Location:** Wayne Manor, Gotham city **  
** **Time:** 08:12 AM

 

“No, you just tap on the battle cat you want to fight for you. Yeah, and you might wanna fire the cat cannon once or twice. The goal is to take down that enemy base.” Damian says while his fingers move all over the screen.

 

It’s his third time trying to save Alvin’s from another disastrous round. He has already lost twice due to Alvin’s poor gamer skills, his score on the score board has even dropped below the top 10. Alvin can’t help but chuckle next to Damian. He deeply regrets that he forgot his camera at a moment like this.

 

“Have you ever played Sushi Cat?” Alvin asks while sipping on his coke, his legs hanging freely over the ledge on the rooftop. In front of them is a most spectacular scenic event, a sunset from one of the best outlook points in Gotham. They’re bathing in the orange-red afterglow from the rays of the setting sun.

 

“Are you serious? That game is way too old. Oh wait, so are you.” Damian snickers, taking a bite of his KitKat.

 

“Hey, be nice.” Dick says, jokingly pushing him around and ruffling Damian’s hair.

 

Soon the sunset will change into dawn, and Alvin wonders whether or not Damian has a curfew. Probably not, seeing how Dick seems so relaxed and carefree, like they have all the time in the world. So they continue to sit there, saying a word or two from time to time, but mostly just enjoying each other’s company.

 

Alvin reaches for their shared candy bag and takes out a Mars bar, splits it in half and hands over the other half to Damian.

 

“You want to share?”

 

“Why? Afraid of getting fat?” Damian snickers at him, but still accepts the other half and eats it in one go. Alvin rolls his eyes and shakes his head, slowly learning how to act around the kid.

 

Silence falls upon the three of them again and remains that way till the sun sets behind the highest skyscraper. Alvin empties the last of his coke and as he puts the cap back on, he looks over at Dick with a genuine smile.

 

“This is really nice. I’m glad we did this.”

 

“Me too.” Dick nods his head in agreement and smiles fondly Alvin’s way. “And about what you said earlier, I get it. But know that we are here for you.”

 

_For me? Or Tim?_

 

Suddenly, Damian hands over his iPhone to Alvin again, while scooching closer to him so they both can see the screen.

 

“Alright, show me Sushi Cat.”

 

Alvin only shrugs and smiles at the kid while he opens the app store. Damian reaches for the bag of candy and proceeds to pick out all the Mars bars, collecting them in a separate pile. For once, he really comes across as the child that he is underneath all of that attitude and bravado.

 

Alvin chuckles lightly as Damian gets all excited over the game. Dick wraps an arm around the boy’s shoulders, well aware it’s a definite breach of personal space and that Damian most likely will threaten to kill him for it later. And yet, the kid doesn’t move.

 

“When are you leaving?” Dick asks, looking towards Alvin.

 

“In a few days. My boss wants me back before we print the next issue.”

 

“I'm going to miss you.” Dick confesses, his voice friendly.

 

_Is it me you'll miss? Or Tim?_

 

Alvin doesn’t say anything in response. In all honesty, he doesn’t know what to say or do next. Damian seems to ponder on something for a minute, clearly thinking it through carefully, before he shoves all the Mars bars into Alvin’s lap.

 

“Here, take these.” Damian says and Alvin looks at him curiously, narrowing his eyes at him as if trying to figure him out. The two of them only look at each other for a minute, both clearly nervous and unsure of what to say or do next.

 

“Drake really liked Mars bars, it used to be his favorite.” He confesses and looks straight at Alvin. "You seem to like them too, so...In return, answer me this honestly. Is he alive?”

 

“Damian, don’t start this again-” Dick starts, but Damian just shushes him.

 

Alvin’s quiet for a moment, carefully choosing his next words with caution.

 

Not for Damian.

 

Not for Dick.

 

But for himself.

 

He thinks back to the evening at the arena and the moment he’d confronted the Double. He still carries with him the heavy burden of Tim’s sacrifice, the feeling of hopelessness he’d felt the moment he ran away. He remembers the last week’s feelings of absence and loneliness. The memorable photos on bedroom walls, the pride and success expressed in those framed diplomas and awards. He still feels the heat from the mist on his skin, still feels his finger tracing the words in the bathroom mirror. Still lingers at the guilt and the worry in his heart.

 

**_Still there?_ **

 

“Well?” Damian pushes on, his stare so intense that Alvin almost feels frightened by the kid. “Is he?”

 

Alvin looks with saddened eyes at both Damian and Dick, and answers earnestly,

 

“I truly hope so.”

 

 

**~*~**

**SAME TIME, ON ANOTHER SIDE...**

**Song:** _The House of the Rising Sun_ \- The Animals

 

“He’s still not speaking, sir,” the young man nervously stutters out, avoiding the hawking gazes from his company. “He refuses to cooperate.”

 

Their leader, a weary, hollow-eyed man, heaves a single, furious pound on the desk with his right fist. His three younger assistants inhale sharply, holding their breaths as their boss seats himself at his desk. He tries his best to compose himself, wiping a few drops of sweat out of his face.

 

Three deep, collected breaths, and he’s back. He leans forward, hitting a button on a nearby intercom on his desk.

 

“Bring him in.”

 

The man behind the desk proceeds to flip through several files and papers till he gets to a page that contains statistics, charts and photos of a young, handsome man in his early 20s. He picks up one of the photos, inspects it closely. Scowling.

 

The doors to the ominous office burst open. Two guards enter the room, dragging with them the same young man as in the photos. They pull him aggressively by his arms, then throw him forcefully forward onto the floor in front of the desk.

 

“Leave us.” The leader orders sternly, to which the guards and all the assistants hurriedly make their way to the doors. As soon as they’re alone, the man behind the desk rises to his feet.

 

Complete silence follows.

 

The man slowly paces over to the younger man before him, patiently studying him like a silent predator watches his prey before the onslaught. None of them utters a word as the older man squats down right in front of his prisoner.

 

“Do you enjoy wasting my time, Tim?” the leader snarls as he grabs the younger by his jaw, holding him in place. “Work with me and you'll get back what's rightfully yours.”

 

“Lies.” Tim snarls. Angry, blood-stained eyes of blue stare resentfully back at the older man. “It is all lies. I'll never help you, Oz.”

 

The man tightens his grip of Tim’s throat, almost choking him when he tries to look away.

 

“Oh but you will, Tim. One way or the other, you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. ❤

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you have questions or feedback, you can either leave a comment below or contact me on Tumblr: https://smutfika.tumblr.com/


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